The lady and the tramp
by zagamaa
Summary: When Gendry is sent to Winterfell to hide from the queen's men, he meets sixteen year old Arya, who has problems of her own. A friendship developes between them, but as their feelings grow stronger, their friendship buckles. When Arya runs away from home, Gendry follows and together they have to face grave danger with no one to depend on but each other.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this is my first GOT story. I don't know how long it will be, I don't know what will happen, all I do know is that it's a Gendrya story, because I'm so osessed with them I can't function properly. Anyway, I've written a few chapters, and I really like the concept, so please tell me what you think of the first chapter. **

_**PS: I'm not from any english-speaking country, so if you find some errors, I apologize and hope you'll let me know. **_

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Chapter 1.

Arya

The sun was almost gone behind the trees in the west, coloring the sky with beautiful colors of pink. Arya rode her mare over the hills, and gazed at the breathtaking view; she could see Winterfell in all its glory, and if she looked south, she could even see all the way to Torhen's square. Her direwolf, Nymeria, was pacing next to her, frequently leaping into the woods, only to return with her tail waggling from side to side. Arya knew she should have been back in the castle by now, but what adventurer would she be if she always obeyed her mother's every rule? She had ridden through the wolfswood from the break of dawn, only eating what the nature could offer. The woods were so peaceful, she wondered how it would be if she never returned back home, but then the thought of her siblings pushed the idea away. She didn't know what she would have done without them. Robb was always protective, but still a lot of fun, even if he was growing older and no longer found play as important as before. And although Sansa could be a true pain in the arse, she was still her sister, and Arya loved her dearly. Bran with his never-ending knowledge, and his talent for telling old stories had no trouble keeping her entertained. Her youngest brother, Rickon could always bring a smile to her face even when she was feeling angry or sad. And then there were Jon; her bastard brother, who seemed to be the only person in the world who truly understood her hatred for marriage and anything that reminded her of the life that was waiting for her once her parents decided it was time. Jon, who had given her Needle, and had showed her how to use the skinny sword. However, Jon was no longer at Winterfell. He had left for the Wall years ago, but the ache in her heart never faded. She had begged her father for permission to go see him, but Ned's answer were always the same_; The Wall is no place for a lady._

It was completely dark when she returned to Winterfell. She was sure she wouldn't have found the way through the snow without Nymeria by her side. The moon had been concealed by heavy clouds, and left the woods in utter darkness. However, the wolf had no trouble sniffing the right path, and frequently turned to make sure Arya was still following.

She entered the castle walls through the hunter's gate as it was the closest, and greeted the guards with a friendly nod. The almost empty court yard was lit up by torches hanging by the stone wall, and Arya suddenly realized how dirty Bran's old breeches were. A stable boy came to take her horse, and Arya ran across the yard to the entrance of the castle where she was sure her mother was waiting angrily. When she opened the heavy wooden doors, loud shouting filled her ears.

Arya immediately recognized Sansa's sobbing voice, followed by their mother's strict yelling. Arya tiptoed to the open door leading to the great hall where her mother and sister had scattered pieces of paper all over the dining table. Sansa sat with her face in her hands, shaking as tears dripped down her fingers. Catelyn stood a few feet away, her face red with anger.

"What on earth where you thinking, Sansa? You are to be married in only a few weeks!"

Arya pushed her back towards the warm walls, glancing through the opening to get a better look. Sansa's sobs grew louder by her mother's harsh words.

"What will the Dayne's think of us? Did you ever stop to consider your future husband's feelings in this folly of yours?"

Arya could see Sansa shaking her head as she removed her hands from her tear wet face and clasped them together in her lap.

"When your father hears about this-,"Her mother started, but Sansa cut her off.

"Oh, mother, please, do not tell him. I beg you!" Sansa's voice was trembling with desperation.

"Stark's do not keep secrets from one another. You ought to remember that the next time you commit such a betrayal."

As her mother stormed out of the room, Arya hurried to hide behind the door, but in vain. The sound of her feet made Catelyn stop and turn.

"ARYA STARK!" her voice echoed through the room. Arya crept forwards, reluctantly. "The next time I tell you to be home by dinner, I expect you to obey, or else you will never be allowed outside these castle walls by yourself ever again." The look she gave her was enough to make Arya tremble under her stare.

"Yes, mother," she replied quietly, looking down at her shoes. Catelyn climbed the stairs, mumbling angrily to herself.

"One daughter refuses to grow up, the other sneaks around with our captain of guards!"

Arya's jaw dropped and she ran into the grand hall to confirm her mother's words.

"Sansa, have you been sneaking around with Jory?" she blurted, earning herself a deathly stare from her sister.

"Leave me alone," she screamed as she got to her feet. Lifting her woolen dress inches from the floor, she ran past her, so quickly the papers on the table flew to the ground. Sketches of wedding dresses Arya recognized. She bit her lip and shook her head in disbelief. Sansa and Jory! The idea was absurd, but then again, Jory was a very kind and friendly man, and even she had to admit he was handsome, despite his age. But Sansa had always dreamed about becoming a lady in a castle, why would she throw her dream away on a guard? And what would happen to Sansa's wedding to Edrick Dayne? Would he have her if he knew she was in love with another man? Arya sighed and went back outside. Whenever there were a fight between Cat and Sansa, which was very rare, everyone would evacuate the castle because of the tension the fight brought with it. Arya knew today was no different. She would have better luck finding her brothers in the fighting yard than in their rooms.

* * *

Gendry

After a month's riding from King's Landing, Gendry found himself longing for a hot bath. The sudden cold surrounding him in his new home had caught him by surprise, and the chill never seemed to leave his body, no matter how many tunics he put on. Old Mikken had been kind enough to give him a small chamber above the forge for him to live in. It contained nothing but a bed and a small, slightly disheveled table with a wax candle on top. The deal was that Gendry would work for his shelter and food in the forge with Mikken, and if he was good enough, the old smith would give him a few coins as well. He wasn't sure why his old master, Tobho Mott had been in such a hurry to send him away. One day he had been awakened in the middle of the night and pushed out of his house with his clothes under one arm, the bull's horn under the other and a letter to Mikken in his hand. The journey to the north would have taken years if it hadn't been for the man Mott had told him about who escorted men to the wall. Yoren, as the man was called, let him travel with them in exchange of the bull-helmet Gendry had made. It had been a sour price to pay, but as the days went by and the riding and lack of sleep wore him down, he realized it had been worth it. He knew he wouldn't have survived a week on the King's road by himself. The woods were full of wildlings and murderers, who wouldn't hesitate to attack and kill him for the few coins he had in his boot.

As he parted with Yoren and the group, the young boys had shot him envious looks, and Gendry knew perfectly well why. They were headed for a lifetime on the wall, whereas he was free to do whatever he'd like. Of course, Mott hadn't given him much of a choice, but they didn't know that. When he first met Mikken, he had seemed like a quiet and very intimidating man. One look from him was enough to make him wish he was back in King's landing with Mott. Mikken had read Mott's letter and taken him under his wing in exchange for his work.

"Let's see if you are as good as your master says," he had said in a husky voice, a challenging smile erupting on his lips. Mikken's wife, Myra, had welcomed him with an affectionate smile. She was a short, plump, but yet beautiful woman, with light- on the edge of gray- hair and dimples in her chubby cheeks. Although she and her husband were over fifty, they had no children, and Myra seemed happy about finally having a young man in her house for her to feed and clothe. She had showed him his room and asked if there were anything he needed. Gendry had asked for the possibility to take a bath, and Myra had immediately sent Mikken on his way to fetch water. Mikken growled under his breath, but obeyed his wife.

"Only this time, dear. Look at the boy, he is half asleep where he stands," Myra had said, patting Gendry's shoulder. "Let me make you something to eat while you wait for the water, young one. I'm afraid all we have is soup, I hope you don't mind."

Gendry was grateful for her hospitality, and felt a lot better after eating several bowls of the thin, but yet delicious soup Myra served him. When Mikken returned with two large buckets full of water, she chuckled sweetly, "He'll eat us out of the house. Oh, how wonderful it is to finally have a young man in my kitchen. Now let's boil that water so you can regain your warmth. I'm sure the weather here is much colder than you are used to, but don't worry, it will grow on you eventually, as it did with me," she smiled and poured the water into several large pans on the stove.

"Push the tub into his room, dear. I'm sure he'd like some privacy while bathing," she told her husband, who reluctantly did as he was told, but shot Gendry dark glances.

"I can move it myself," Gendry offered and stood to follow Mikken, but Myra pushed him back into his seat.

"Nonsense. A little lifting won't do Mikken any harm. Now, sit down and drink your wine," she handed him a cup filled with red liquid and he gulped it all down. "So, how was your journey to the north? Did you encounter any dangers on the way?"

Gendry told her about the group he had traveled with, and was amazed to see her amused expression. She listened quietly, frequently refilling his cup and nodding at the right places. She reminded him of how his mother had asked him about his days when she was working in the alehouse, and Gendry felt his throat thicken. Myra was such a loving and friendly woman, he thought it was a shame she didn't have children of her own.

After his bath, he had been eager to explore WInterfell, but Myra had commanded him in bed in a stern voice. Frowning, he obeyed, and suddenly understood why Mikken did everything she told him to do. She might be caring and kind, but she was also knew how to get what she wanted. He went to bed, feeling lighter than he had for weeks. He knew Mott had had a good reason to send him away, and sent him a silent gratitude for how well it had all turned out. Tomorrow he would finally get to work with steel again, and he would prove to Mikken that keeping him around would be worth it.

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**So what do you think of the first chapter? **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Arya

After her sewing lesson with Septa Mordane, which had ended in a fight like it usually did, Arya seeked the market place to get her mind off things. Sansa hadn't attended the lesson, which was the first time in very long! Nor had she shown up for breakfast, and when Bran had asked after her, Mother had simply shrugged. But the look her parent's exchanged after did not go past Arya, and she knew something was wrong. They might not get along very well, but knowing Sansa was miserably gave Arya a strong feeling of pity, and she decided she would buy her something nice to cheer her up. A necklace, perhaps. Sansa had always enjoyed jewelries, especially since they were such a rare pleasure at Winterfell. Arya walked through the muddy snow to the forge, where she hoped Mikken had something pretty hid somewhere. She knew that although he mostly made swords and spears, he sometimes made trinkets for his wife, and she was hoping he might be willing to sell something to her.

Entering the forge, which was hot as always, she noticed a man with raven black hair standing with his back to her, hammering a piece of steel. His bare torso revealed how his muscles flexed by his movements, and Arya caught herself staring.

"Can I help you, lady Stark? Is your new sword not pleasing you?" Mikken's raspy voice called from next to her. Arya startled and gave him a smile, her cheeks reddening.

"The sword is great as always, Mikken. Today I was actually wondering if you have a necklace lying around that I could buy from you. It's for my sister."

Mikken scratched his beard had pursed his lips while thinking. As he ducked under a table and started to search through a drawer, the black-haired man turned and gave her a wide smile. Arya smiled back, struck by the man's handsome features. He couldn't possibly be older that Robb, but was much bigger built. While Robb's shoulders were rather slender, the new smith had wide and muscular shoulders, making his head look small. He reminded her a little of a bull.

Mikken reappeared with three necklaces draped in his large hands.

"Do any of these please the young lady?" he asked politely. Arya stared at them; they were so beautiful, yet none of them were as she had imagined.

"Although I find your work exquisite, I don't believe any of these are suitable for a sister to give to another sister," she said as politely as she could. Mikken's look darkened as he placed the necklaces back in the drawer. Arya felt bad for critizising his work, and considered buying one of the necklases just to please the old smith.

"You don't happen to have anything with a wolf on, do you?" she asked hopefully.

"If the lady means the house sigil, I have not," Mikken replied. "However, I could have something ready for tonight, m'lady."

Arya smiled widely by this. Sansa would be thrilled; not only would the necklace remind Sansa of her wolf, Lady, but it would be a symbol of their house. Surely this would be a suitable wedding present! _Well, if there will be a wedding, that is, _she reminded herself.

"That would be great," Arya said. Mikken nodded and turned to the young man, who was yet again engrossed by his work.

"Gendry, come here," he ordered. The man put the steel down and approached them, his stomach muscles flexing by every step he took.

"It's time to prove what you're worth. Lady Stark would like a necklace with their house sigil on. Take her order and sketch her description. Afterwards you can make it, and have it ready by tonight."

The young man – Gendry, nodded. He seemed a little nervous as he drew out a piece of paper and a pencil. Arya couldn't blame him; it seemed as if this was some kind of test, and Arya hated tests. Septa Mordane would frequently ask them to sew a dress to show how much they had learned these past years, and Arya had never gained anything but criticism from her.

"Would you like the necklace to be exactly like your house sigil?" Gendry asked, before hastily adding, "m'lady."

Arya bit her lip while she considered his question. Perhaps something a little different, but yet something similar enough would be more suitable? In case the Dayne's wouldn't like if their new lady of Starfall wore her old sigil, she decided it would be better if it was simply just a howling wolf. As she gave her reply, Mikken bowed his head and went to work on something in the far corner of the forge. Gendry seemed to relax considerably with his master gone.

"A howling direwolf?" he asked, a little skeptical. Arya realized he probably had never seen a direwolf in his life, and opened the door to call for Nymeria. Seconds later, her large wolf entered the forge and glanced at Gendry with big, weary eyes. Gendry gaped at the animal, obviously impressed.

"Something like her," Arya said. Gendry nodded and started to draw something on the paper. He sometimes looked at the wolf to get a detail right, but as he finished Arya was highly impressed by the result.

"That looks great," she blurted, her eyes big with envy. The man was skilled with a pencil. Gendry reddened by her compliment and returned his gaze to the paper.

"When do you think the necklace will be finished?" she asked, not taking her eyes of the sketch. It looked exactly like she had imagined, perhaps even better.

"By sunset, m'lady" he told her. She was happy to get such a precise answer.

"How much do you believe this will cost me?" she asked. Gendry considered the drawing for a moment.

"One moon," he replied. Arya nodded. It was a reasonable price. This would be, after all, Sansa's wedding, or no wedding gift.

She found Robb and Rickon practicing swordplay in the fighting yard, and was eager to fight whoever won. As she grew older, she had moved on from Needle, finding it was getting a little small for her. Although she wasn't nearly as tall as Sansa, she was still taller than she had been when Jon gave her the skinny sword. When her father had found out about her secret training, he hadn't approved it at first, but after seeing her in action, he changed his mind and let her continue. He had even gotten her a dancing master, who taught her how to move around the enemy during a fight. Her brother's had been skeptical to this foreign master, and kept practicing with Rodrik, but after seeing how much progress she made, they all asked for a few classes with Syrio. Even their master-at-arms had gotten a few tips from him, and even though they had eyed each other as rivals at Syrio's arrival, they were finally becoming friends.

"Hello there," a voice called from behind her. Bran came rolling towards her in the chair Mikken had made for him. It was now possible for Bran to move around the grounds without the need to be carried everywhere. His mood had lightened remarkably after the chair had finished, and he was no longer as depressed as he once had been after the climbing accident.

"I saw you at Mikken's. What are you getting? A new sword?" he asked as he approached her. She shook her head.

"An early wedding gift for Sansa, but if you tell her, I will hit you," she warned him. Bran chuckled.

"You cannot beat a cripple. That is unethical," he pointed out. Arya scoffed.

"Try me," she said. He gave her a grateful smile. She knew he hated being treated differently because of his handicap, but she had never shown him any mercy because of the accident. If she got mad at him, she would punch him in the shoulder, crippled or not.

"Did you hear the fight yesterday?" he asked, his expression darkening.

"I did," she sighed. "Sansa was a mess. Did you know she's been sneaking around with Jory Cassel?"

Bran rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I caught them once, but I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone. Obviously, mother figured out anyway."

"You knew and you never told me?" Arya asked, feeling slightly hurt. She and Bran had always been close, especially since the accident. She expected him to tell her everything, at least when it was about their sister.

"I made a promise," he said. "I would have done the same for you."

Arya sighed. Bran had always been good at keeping secrets, but not good at lying, which were one of his rare down-sides as he could never cover for her whenever she sneaked outside the castle walls without telling.

"What do you think will happen? Will she tell Edrick?"

"I don't know. I think she wants to marry Jory instead, but mother won't hear of it. He's not a _lord_."

"I think it would be great if she married Jory. He's always been good to us. Remember that time he took us bathing when mother and father were too busy? He's not just a guard, he's practically a part of the family," Arya said. Bran nodded.

"He's a bit older than she is, though," he said.

"Who cares how old he is? Aunt Lysa married Jon, even though he was twice her age!"

"That was many years ago," Bran stated, folding his hands in his lap. "Perhaps Edrick would rather marry you now."

She jerked around and stared at him. was he serious? The idea was repulsing! She couldn't even picture herself as a lady of a castle. She was no lady, nor had she ever been one.

"Relax, Arya, I'm only japing," he assured her, chuckling. "But you do know father will find you a husband eventually."

"Later rather than sooner," Arya said, shaking with disgust. "I don't want to be a lady! I want to be a knight like Brienne of Tarth! I want to fight, not attend stupid feasts wearing stupid dresses."

Bran sighed and looked at her with sadness gleaming from his dark eyes. "And I would give anything to be able to climb again, but we don't always get what we want, do we?"

Arya bit her lip and looked at her feet. She hated when he used his condition against her. Especially when he was right; Life is unfair.

* * *

Gendry

The young lady returned by sunset, her giant wolf following her. Gendry took a deep breath as he laid the necklace on the counter in front of her. His whole future as a blacksmith could depend on whether or not she liked it. Studying her reaction, he let out a sigh of relief; she liked it! Her eyes widened by the sight of the silver necklace, and her lips twisted into a large smile. She looked up at him, clearly impressed.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, putting the necklace in the palm of her hand. "It's perfect, thank you."

He felt her words lift him several feet of the ground, and had to turn away to hide his smile. He had done it. She was happy, and he would be allowed to stay with Mikken and Myra a little longer.

"Oh, here's the moon," she said, pulling a money pouch from the hem of her breeches. He chuckled quietly as she scrambled through the pouch with muddy fingers. Mikken had told her about the youngest lady stark, who fought with swords rather than sew, and who played with her brothers instead of discussing fashion with her sister. Mikken also told him how much trouble she usually got herself into; she didn't like being told what to do, and rebelled against anyone who tried to tame her.

"Sansa will be thrilled," she smiled. Gendry accepted the coin she handed him, and tucked it into his pocket. The size of the coin felt odd and misplaced. Gendry had never had much money, and he knew that also this coin he would have to give to Mikken. Hopefully, he would earn a few slants for the work he put into it.

"I'm glad m'lady likes it," he said, bowing his head slightly. Arya frowned and crossed her arms.

"I'd prefer if you simply called me Arya," she said stubbornly. Gendry nodded.

"As m'lady commands," he said out of habit. She sighed let her hands drop to her side, looking exasperated.

"I'm not a lady, so you might as well stop," she patted her wolf's head. "Who are you anyway? I've never seen you here before."

"I'm Gendry," he almost said 'm'lady', but stopped just in time. "I came here from King's Landing." He suddenly realized he probably should have kept that last part a secret, but it was too late now. He made a mental note not to reveal where he was from to anyone else, and hoped Arya was not one of those who told everything to everyone. For some reason, he doubted she was.

"You're good," she said, motioning to the necklace in her hand. "Thanks again."

Just as she left, Mikken came down the stairs from their living area. "Was that the Stark girl?" he asked. Gendry nodded, and fished the moon out of his pocket to give it to his master, but Mikken shook his head.

"You did well today, kid," he said. "Keep it, you've earned it."

Gendry smiled widely and glanced after Arya through the window. Mikken sniggered huskily and started to pour water over the sparkling coal.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you lad, but Lady Stark is a little above your kin."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied gruffly and marched up the stairs where Myra had prepared dinner.

* * *

_So, does it make sense? If there's any confusion, I can clear a few things up: The King did come to king's landing, but Ned turned his offer down. Jamie pushed Bran down from the tower, but he doesn't remember anything. Queen Cercei killed lady. I guess Joffrey and Sansa had some interest in each other, but as Ned didn't take the position as the king's hand, the marriage offer blew off as well. Arya did not chase Nymeria away, and Gendry was sent to Winterfell instead of the wall. Robb is to marry Tulla, Samwell's sister and Sansa is to marry Edrick Dayne and become Lady or Starfell. _


	3. Chapter 3

**I really appreciate the reviews you leave for me. They motivate me to keep going. I am now writing the tenth chapter, or something like that, so I'd say this is going pretty good! I'll try to update at least once a week, perhaps sooner if I get really excited. R&R**

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Chapter 3

Arya

Aray waited for the next morning before she knocked on her sister's chamber door, and carefully entered. Sansa lay in bed with the covers thoroughly tucked around her.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her voice hoarse. _Probably from crying so much_, Arya thought. Sansa should stop crying all the time. She looked much prettier without the pink nose and fluffy eyes. Hopefully, this necklace would cheer her up. Arya ignored her hostile tone and sat down on the bed next to her.

"I've got a present for you," she said. She didn't mention it would be her wedding present if her wedding ever happened. That would only upset her more.

"I don't want anything. Go away, Arya," Sansa said, her voice almost pleading. Arya pulled the wrapped necklace out of her pocket and laid it down on the pillow next to Sansa's head.

"The new blacksmith made it. He's really talented," she said and stood to leave. In the doorway, she stopped, considering saying something more like 'I love you', but changed her mind and went down for breakfast. It was a dim atmosphere around the table. By now, everybody knew about Sansa's romance, and everyone feared something would happen to the wedding. Ned tried to lighten the mood by asking everyone what they had been up to the last days. Arya told them about the new smith, Gendry. When she boasted about his work, they all eyed her in interest.

"Where does he come from?"

Arya remembered his look after he had told her where he was from. She hadn't been able to figure out what it meant, but she was sure he regretted telling her. So when her family asked, she simply shrugged and continued eating her bacon.

"I haven't heard anything about a new blacksmith," Ned said wondering to his wife. "I ought to speak with Mikken. I am Lord of Winterfell, I should show some interest in the worker's lives."

Catelyn nodded before her eyes grew wide. Everyone turned in the direction she was looking and saw Sansa coming through the door, fully dressed and with her hair put up in a classy do. Arya smiled when she saw the wolf-necklace around her sister's slender neck. Sansa sat down next to Rickon at the end of the table and gave Arya a grateful look. Thank you, she mouthed. Arya nodded back, happy the necklace pleased her.

"I'm glad you joined us, Sansa," her mother said warily. Arya could see how forced her sister's small smile was. Obviously, she hadn't forgiven her mother for yelling yet.

"You look lovely, sweetheart," Ned said. "Is that a new necklace?"

Sansa nodded eagerly. "An early wedding gift from Arya," she said, showing the necklace to Rickon who nodded approvingly. Arya startled. So she had figured it out even though Arya hadn't said anything about it. Did this mean Sansa still wanted to marry Edrick Dayne?

"It's beautiful," Catelyn said.

"It's the new blacksmith's work," Sansa said, looking down at her wolf on her chest. "He's talented."

They talked about weddings for the rest of the breakfast; Sansa said she finally decided on what dress she wanted to wear, and Robb talked about how his bride-to-be Talla Tarly, would soon arrive at WInterfell and they would have their wedding.

Arya realized that they were all almost grown now. Robb was getting married and would soon have a son or daughter, Sansa would be lady of Starfall, Bran was five-and-ten, nearly a man grown, and Rickon would be one-and-one at his next name day. And she was six-and-ten, flowered and ready to become a wife and mother. She was suddenly very aware of the fact the she was the next sibling in line her father needed to find a betrothed for, and the thought scared her more than anything.

When the breakfast ended, and the servants came to clean their plates away, Arya hurried after her father as he put his cloak on.

"Father?" she asked.

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Will you force me to marry some old lord?" she blurted, dreading the answer. Her father sighed, and sat down on one of the steps in the staircase, waving her closer.

"You are a woman-grown, Arya, and one day we will have to find someone who can take care of you," he said, his voice gentle, as if he was afraid to break her. She clenched her fists and shook her head.

"But I don't have to get married to be taken care of! Robb can do it, I'm sure he won't mind. I can live with him until I'm old and die."

Ned gave her a little smile and ruffled her hair like Jon had used to do when she was little.

"Let's not worry about the future today, Arya."

"But when should I worry? What if someday you decide it's time, and you send me to some castle down south where it's always hot and sunny! Please don't force me father," she said, feeling her throat thicken. She knew her parents had delayed her wedding plans until Sansa was wedded and bedded. But how much longer would they be willing to wait?

Ned pulled her closer and put his arms around her. "When the day does come, I promise I will listen to what you have to say about the matter. I will not let you marry some 'old lord', and I will especially not let you marry if you are truly so against it. But today you are young and innocent, and you don't know what you really want. Who knows, perhaps you will wake up one day and think that now you are ready to get married and start a family."

Arya shook her head stubbornly. "No," she said simply. "That's not me. That's Sansa, but not me. I want to be a knight, not a wife."

"Like I said, let's not worry about the future, my dear." He gave her a hug and left her on the stone step. Arya felt the frustration bubble up inside of her; she didn't want to get married, she didn't want to be a lady! Why couldn't she just become a bloody knight?

* * *

Gendry

When the lord of Winterfell had stopped by the forge, Mikken had told Gendry he could take a break for a while. Gendry was grateful as he pulled his tunic over his head and disappeared out of the door. He reckoned the lord had serious matters to discuss with his master, or else they would not have asked him to leave. He had to chuckle by the resemblance between Lord Stark and his daughter. Except for her long hair, and his graying beard, they looked practically the same. Their eyes were the most obvious similarity; they had both widened by the sight of him, for reasons he yet did not know. After seeing everything that was worth seeing inside the castle walls, he followed one of the gates out into the open space around the walls. The snow was more rapid out here where the wind had free access, and his hair was soon filled with snowflakes. He wrapped his cloak firmer around himself as he strolled through the leg-deep snow. He hadn't seen snow before in his life before he had traveled north with Yoren and his group, and was surprised by how breath-taking it was. The white layer of snow transformed the landscape completely, and lay over the ground as a thick carpet.

A noise of wood hitting wood caught his attention, and he hurried toward the sound. The idea of it being dangerous seemed so absurd in this beautiful landscape, he didn't even consider it. He found his way through the trees, the sound growing louder and more rapid. When he saw movements behind in the distance, he slowed down, careful not to be seen. He caught a glimpse of a mane of dark brown hair, followed by a girl's face, wearing a furious expression. She was wearing boy's clothing and was hitting a nearby tree over and over again with a long stick. She hissed and grunted as her stick hit the tree, the sound echoing through the woods. He knew he ought to be surprised by witnessing a lady acting as she did, but Arya Stark was no ordinary lady, he had known that from the moment they met. He walked a little forward and leaned around a tree for a better look. Suddenly, a branch broke under his weight, and Arya's head jerked around. When she saw him, her expression grew even angrier.

"Are you spying on me?" she asked accusingly, her voice dripping of hostility. Gendry approached her, holding his hands defensively into the air.

"I heard a noise-"he started, but she only snorted.

"I don't care!" she snapped and started hitting the tree again. He stood there for a while, wondering what to do.

"Who's the tree?" he asked after a while. It was meant as a joke, but she only gave him a dark stare.

"You," she replied dryly, giving the tree yet another whip.

"I'm honored," he said, bowing. The gesture made Arya throw the stick to the ground and push him down after it.

"I'm no lady!" she yelled, pushing him again until he lost balance and fell into the snow. He wasn't able to hide the smile erupting on his face, and he could see how irritated it made her.

She picked up the stick again, and started whipping it towards him, missing him by inches.

"Ey, careful," he said and got to his feet, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Stop smiling," she ordered.

He bowed again. "As m'lady commands." She sneered and threw her stick after him, but he ducked and it flew over his head and landed a few feet behind him. "I hope m'lady is better with a sword than she is throwing sticks at people," he said. Arya gave him a challenging look, before she broke two branches off the nearest tree and handed him one of them.

"See for yourselves," she said and brought her arm into a starting position. Gendry hesitated. He was too old to play with sticks, besides, Arya was a girl, high-born lady no less, and he really didn't want to hurt her. But seeing her confident expression urged him into testing her theory. Mikken had told him that she was quite the swordsman, or lady, but Gendry didn't believe it before he had seen if for himself.

"Are you craven?" Arya teased. "Or perhaps you do not know how to swing a sword."

Gendry gave her a smile. "I'm only afraid to hurt you," he said, winking. She juggled the stick from one hand to the other in a graceful move. He noticed she used her left-hand, which would only make it easier to beat her. Or so he thought. When they got started, she showed she was quick and danced elegantly around, avoiding every blow he threw at her. Her petit figure worked in her advantage, as it only made it more difficult to hit her, and whenever he was even near, their sticks would meet and make a hollow sound. She ducked from one of his blows, and appeared right beside him, swinging her stick at his arm. Grunting, he backed away, and managed to block her next blow. Their sticks locked and they stood only one foot apart, staring into each other's eyes. Arya's grim expression was completely vanished, and she was smiling, laughing in between her panting. He let her give him one last blow, before he once again fell to the ground. This time however, he managed to catch her elbow, and dragged her down with him. She gasped in surprised, and punched him over and over as they lay in the snow, laughing.

"You stupid" she yelled, trying to sound angry, but her eyes revealed how funny she thought the situation was. Ha caught her little wrists and made it impossible for her to hit him.

"Are you done hurting me?" he asked firmly. Arya made one last attempt to wriggle free, before she nodded and sat down next to him. They sat in silence for a while, staring up at the blue sky. It was no longer snowing, and the sun started to peek out from behind a cloud.

"Did your sister like the necklace?" he asked.

"She loved it! I recommended you to my family, you know. You're good," her voice was serious as she said the last, telling him she wasn't lying.

"How come you were so mad today?" he asked to change subject. Arya sighed and got to her feet.

"I don't want to talk about it," she shrugged and gathered their sticks together. Gendry followed her as she started through the forest. Suddenly, her large wolf came leaping through the woods, greeting her owner by throwing her to the ground. The wolf licked her face, and Arya laughed heartedly as Gendry approached her to see if she was okay. Arya shoved the wolf away and nodded, her eyes beaming.

"She's strong," he pointed out.

"She's the best," Arya laughed and petted the wolf's fur. They walked to the castle together, Gendry avoiding the wolf as best as he could. Back in King's Landing the only animal he had ever had daily encounters with was a stray cat, begging for food. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to have a large wolf for a pet, but wasn't stupid enough to say so out loud.

"We should duel again sometime," she said with a smile as they entered through the gates. "It was fun."

He nodded. "As m'lady wish," he said and left her side before she could push him to the ground again.


	4. Chapter 4

**I want to thank you for the reviews! It feels good to know that people are reading and that they actually like what they read. I'm sorry this is not a gendry/arya chapter, but a filler that needed to be here. Next chapter though... stay tuned peepz! **

* * *

Arya

Chapter 4.

When Arya visited the kennel to pet the dogs, she caught a glimpse of her sister's auburn hair sneaking behind the armory. Curious, Arya hurried after_, quick as a snake_. Sansa stopped and glanced over her shoulder, before she continued past the guard's hall. _She's headed for the first keep,_ Arya realized, quickening her pase. As Sansa entered and disappeared behind the old wooden door, Arya climbed onto the roof of the guard's hall and glanced through the window. Inside the first keep, sitting in the window facing north she saw Jory, who jumped to his feet by the sight of Sansa. As they leaned closer and kissed, Arya decided she had seen enough and jumped to the ground. _So Sansa was still stupid enough to sneak around with Jory?_ Well, that ought to put a stopper to the wedding. If Catelyn found out, the castle would be unbearable to live in. She looked for Bran or Robb or anyone she could confide in, but remembered that Robb were out with Theon and Bran had his lessons with Maester Luwin. She sighed, wondering what to do whit this new knowledge. Perhaps she ought to keep it a secret for now, and confront Sansa with it later. Yes, that did seem like the right thing to do.

The great hall smelled of newly roasted bacon and eggs, making her stomach twist in hunger. She sat down next to Rickon, who already had his mouth full and grinned widely at her, causing food to fall out from between his teeth.

"You're repulsing!" Arya told him. When their parents entered, Rickon swallowed and ate nicely for the rest of the meal.

"Talla Tarly will arrive in a few days," her mother read from a note one of the servants handed her. Arya felt her insides twist. The sooner her parents got Robb's wedding out of the way, the sooner they would start planning hers.

"Won't it be nice to finally have grandchildren?" she asked her husband, who nodded curtly. Something else was obviously on his mind.

"What's the matter, Ned? You look like you're bearing the world's burden on your shoulders," Catelyn stated while squeezing her husband's arm.

"I believe I am," he said, shaking his head. But although everyone gave him strange looks, he refused to say more. "Where's Sansa?" he asked instead. Arya bit her lip and stared down at her plate, praying that neither of her parents would ask her directly. Although she was a pretty good liar, she hated being dishonest toward her parents.

"I bet she's out with Jory again," Rickon said, chuckling. Catelyn's face grew serious and she shot her son a stern look.

"This is not a laughing matter," she told him. "If your sister doesn't manage to pull herself together anytime soon, I'm afraid we'll have to cancel the marriage. "

Arya silently wished they would. Not only for her sake, but for Sansa and Jory's as well. They deserved to be happy together; even if he was not as high-born as they were. Why did class have to matter? In the end, they were all going to die anyway.

"Have anyone seen Bran today?" Ned asked instead.

"He's in the library with Maester Luwin," Arya replied, relieved they had moved away from the subject of marriage.

Catelyn nodded in approval. "He'll become a maester himself if he continues studying like this. I always knew he'd do well."

"Bran wanted to become a knight," Arya pointed out.

"Well, life is unfair, Arya, I thought you of all people knew that," her mother snapped, folding her hands in her lap. "For Bran's sake, stop reminding him of his childhood dream. It will only make matters worse."

Arya snorted. "Make matters worse? He can't use his legs, how much worse could it get? Do you really think he'll ever forget his ambition of becoming a knight? He doesn't need to be reminded, because he thinks about it every time he tries to move his legs, but cannot feel anything. And you keep reminding him by treating him like a child!" she wasn't sure were all the anger came from. Perhaps it was the secret about Sansa, or the fact that Bran would never be able to walk again that shook her, but Arya felt suddenly very tired and angry with the world.

"Watch your tone, young lady," her mother warned. Arya got up in such a hurry, the table scattered.

"I'm _not_ a lady," she yelled and marched out of the room, her blood boiling.

* * *

Ned

Ned watched as his daughter left the room, his heart aching for her. She wanted to become a lady just as much as he wanted to be hand of the king. Only he had the option to turn the offer down. Arya wanted to become a knight, which were possible in these modern days, but was not thought very highly off.

"That girl has no manners," his wife muttered from beside him. "We ought to find her a husband as soon as possible. I wanted to do so years ago, but you-"

He cut her off in a calm voice, "We'll do so when she's ready."

"Ready!" Catelyn huffed. "Ned Stark you are the only Lord alive who refuses to give away his daughter's hand. I'm sure that when Arya gets used to being a wife, she will be a good one, but that will not happen as long as you let her run around in Bran's clothes and play with blades! You treat her as if she was your son. But she's not!"

Ned sighed and took a few more bites of his bacon. "The time's not right, love," he said patiently.

"When will I get married?" Rickon asked. Catelyn gave him a smile and told him that as soon as he was a man grown, they would find him a wife and a castle to rule.

"I bet Arya wants to marry the new blacksmith," Rickon said, frowning.

"How so?" Ned asked in amusement. Now this was a new theory.

"I saw them playing in the wolfswood. And she talks about him all the time."

Ned pursed her lips and ruffled his son's hair. "Perhaps they are friends, son. No more need to come from it."

"Jory and Sansa used to be friends," the boy said, his face serious. Ned could feel his wife's eyes on him, and needed not turn to know how worried she looked.

"Leave us please," she told her son, who reluctantly threw the last piece of egg into his mouth and exited. When alone, his wife turned toward him, holding his hand.

"Oh, love, what if Arya too falls in love with a low-born man?"

Ned shook his head and pulled his hand away from her touch. "I don't appreciate you calling my men 'low-born', my lady," he said through clenched teeth. Arya would never fall in love with the blacksmith, would she? Sure he was a handsome bloke, and reminded him so much of Robert as a young man it was hair-rising, but still, his sudden arrival had been rather suspicious, even Mikken did not know the real reason to why the boy was here.

"This is what happens when you give your daughters so much freedom. If we had only forced them into marriage when they first flowered-"

"We could risk being hated forever. I ask you Catelyn, what would have been best? Seeing your daughters in a rich, but not good marriage, where they couldn't stand the sight of us, or seeing them happy with someone they love?"

Catelyn frowned and shook her head. "It is a matter of tradition, not preferences."

"Then perhaps it is about time we change the traditions around here," he told her in a firm voice and got up to his feet. "All my men serve me well, and I see no reason why they should be looked down at. Now if you'll excuse me my lady, I have to talk to my eldest daughter."

He found Sansa in her chamber, lying in the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was shaking.

"Sansa, my sweetheart?" he called. The girl didn't move. As he approached her, he closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed next to her. he noticed a letter curled up in her fist.

"Are you alright?" he asked, stroking her auburn hair. Cat's hair. Sansa shook her head so violently, her hair fell down over her face, concealing her puffy eyes.

"Is this about Jory?"

No response_. I'll take that as a yes_, Ned thought, sighing. He tried to reach out for the letter, but Sansa jerked her hand closer to her chest and gave him a warning stare.

"That's mine!" she said fiercely, reminding him of Catelyn. Ned nodded and retrieved his hand.

"I wish you would tell me what's on your mind, child."

Sansa scoffed. "Why should I? It's not like you care about my wishes anyway." Her voice was weak but bitter.

"That is nonsense. I always thought it was your ambition to become a lady of a castle. You seemed so happy when we first made the betrothal with Edrick Dayne."

Sansa wiped her nose with a handkerchief and turned to him, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I was. Then," she said, biting her lip.

"But then you fell in love with Jory," Ned finished. Sansa let out a moan and fell back into fetal position, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. "I don't know what it is you want me to do, Sansa."

The girl considered his words for a moment, before she looked at him, her hand clasping around the wolf necklace. "Arya can marry Edrick. They are the same age, it would be more appropriate."

Ned sighed. The Dayne's did not want Arya, no matter how beautiful she was. They had wanted Sansa's sleek figure and auburn hair, her mature manners and her breathtaking smile.

"Would you like to put an end to the betrothal?" Ned asked, dreading her answer. Sansa put her face in her hands, sobbing. But then, when she pulled her hands away, she had a determined expression on her face. She sat up, her back straight like her mother had taught her and replied in a monotone voice: "Jory is simply a low-born guard. Edrick Dayne is to be my lord husband, and that is final." Her eyes were locked on a woven picture of her old wolf, Lady that hung on the wall. Ned felt his heart break for the girl. Her reluctance was so obvious, but still she intended to go through with the marriage to protect the Stark's honor, just like her mother had wanted her to.

* * *

Gendry

Whenever Gendry worked in the forge, the days flew quicker than a snake could crawl. Mikken had been so impressed by the wolf necklace, he had told him to make a few other trinkets.

"My hands are too large to get the details right," he had said and hammered down on a piece of steel. Gendry didn't mind. He loved working with small things; he loved how difficult it was, and the feeling he got after finally getting everything right. He especially loved to see the customer's face whenever they saw the result. Like Arya's, whose face had lit up in amazement. The thought of the little lady made him smile. She truly wasn't like anyone he had ever met, and that was what he liked so much about her.

"What are you grinning about?" the smith asked him in his hoarse voice. Gendry looked up and felt his cheek redden slightly.

"Nothing."

"It's that Stark girl, isn't it?" Mikken smirked and gave him a wink. "I saw the two of you come through the hunting gate earlier today."

Gendry shrugged and return his attention to his work. At the moment he was working on a necklace made of steel so the price would not be so high. It would be a spiral with a little shiny rock in the middle. A green rock, reminding him of the tunic Arya had worn the first time they met. Green was obviously her color. He let his thoughts wander as he bent the steel, shaping it just like he had imagined. Mikken would occasionally come over to look at his work, but said nothing. If he was impressed, he did not show it.

When the working day was finished, Mikken told him to bring the jewelries he had made and ask Myra of her opinion.

"No one knows what a woman wants more than a woman," he said, chuckling slightly. The dinner was already set on the table when they came up the stairs.

Myra smiled widely at them. She never seemed anything but happy whenever they were finished in the forge.

"Show her your work, lad," Mikken told him, giving him a pat on the shoulder so violently, Gendry lost his balance. Feeling slightly nervous he scattered the trinkets on the table. Myra studied them closely and a wide smile erupted on her face.

"Oh my," she exclaimed. "Oh, Mikken, he's talented! Look at these details."

Mikken grunted in reply, but Gendry saw the small smile on his lips, almost concealed by the man's white beard.

"These truly are beautiful," she said, hovering over the spiral necklace with the green rock. _Arya's necklace,_ he caught himself thinking, and felt his cheek flush. "You will someday be a very rich man, Gendry Waters." her blue eyes beamed at him, and Gendry felt his heart swell with pride.

"Yeah yeah, he's good, let's eat," Mikken murmured in his beard seating himself by the table. Myra chuckled and brought a pan of stew off the oven. It smelled heavenly, and tasted even better.

Myra still eyed the necklaces with great interest. "Mikken, these necklaces could help increase the income of the forge. We ought to show them to people."

Gendry picked up one of the necklaces – a rose of steel- and handed it to Myra, whose eyes widened in surprise and delight. "What better way to show them off than put them on a beautiful woman?" he said, smiling.

"You flatter me," she giggled but put the necklace on. "Oh my, it is beautiful, don't you think, Mikken?"

Mikken eyed Gendry suspiciously and murmured something into his beard about 'drawing the price of the material out of Gendry's salary', but Gendry didn't mind; seeing Myra's happy eyes was worth it. He couldn't thank them enough for taking him in, although he was a complete stranger.


	5. Chapter 5

**So, because of the lack of Gendrya-fluff in the last chapter, I decided I might as well publish the next as well. It's not very fluffy either, but it is necessary. R&R**

* * *

Arya

Chapter 5.

Talla Tarly arrived a few days later, accompanied by her family and around one hundred guards. Arya stood next to her siblings as the party came through the main gates. Her mother had told her to put on a nice dress, and Arya had reluctantly obeyed. Sansa had offered to put her hair up, and thinking it would help her sister's mood, Arya let her. She had hardly recognized herself when she looked in the mirror, and had to admit she didn't look half-bad. But all the beauty in the world was not worth the discomfort of walking around in long gowns and uncomfortable shoes.

Arya watched the rest of the inhabitants of Winterfell, who had all come to welcome the new Lady, and caught a glimpse of raven-black hair next to Mikken and his wife. Everyone had put on the finest of clothing they owned, and for Gendry it meant a simple tunic and clean trousers, both almost concealed by a large, green cloak that seemed relatively new. She guessed Myra had made it for him; surely he wouldn't need a woolen cloak back in King's Landing. The man caught her eyes as he pushed his hair back, smiling.

As a wagon stopped right in front of them, and the young Talla stepped out, Robb approached her and helped her down the ladder. Arya had to snigger by the way he was looking at his bride-to-be. However, he was not the only one. Talla was tall with curves on all the right places, just like a lady ought to look like. Arya felt a pinch of jealousy, but pushed it away. Being skinny came to her advantage in a sword fight, no matter how unflattering it might be.

An older woman, Lady Melessa Arya guessed, came out after her daughter. She was wearing a dark blue silk gown and a lighter blue cloak made of cotton. Arya couldn't imagine it was warm enough to wear in a place like Winterfell, and hoped they had brought wool. Just like her daughter, the lady's hair was very dark, on the edge of black, and was set up in an elegant do, just like the queen's hair had been when she visited Winterfell so long ago.

A narrow, but muscular man rode past the carriage and jumped off his horse right in front of her father. His head was almost bare, while his beard was gray and bristly. He shook Ned's hand firmly and gave Catelyn a kiss on her hand. Instead of talking to the children like the king had done, he simply nodded toward them and took a few steps back as another man came forward. Arya guessed him to be around her age, but acted as if he was five years older. Dickon Tarly, she guessed and watched wearily as he mimicked his father's greetings.

"I'm pleased to welcome you to Winterfell," Ned said. "I see you have not brought your other daughters, Lord Tarly."

The man shook his head. "Both are betrothed, my youngest to Lord Willas Tyrell. I saw no point in bringing them into this cold. How you northern stand it is beyond my knowledge."

"I find the cold refreshing," Talla said with a smile, looking straight at Robb, who eyed her back with just as much interest. Obviously, he had not been disappointed.

Lord Tarly frowned. "Well, that makes one of us."

Arya saw her parents exchanging worried looks, before Ned ordered a few of his men to take care of the guest's horses. Catelyn had prepared three bedrooms for the Tyrell's, while the guards would have to stay in the stable or in the brothel outside the city walls.

"Let me show you where you will be staying, Lady Tarly," Catelyn said.

"I always thought Winterfell was bigger," the youngest Tarly said as he looked up at the castle. Arya shot him a glare, but if he noticed, he simply didn't care.

Soon the court yard was emptying. The workers returned to their work, the guards to their posts and the guests to their living area. Robb followed his bride-to-be like a pup and didn't stop staring at her.

"What's wrong with Robb?" Rickon asked as they walked back inside the castle with Sansa and Bran.

Sansa scoffed and rolled her eyes. "He's in love, Rickon." Arya could sense the bitterness in her words. Her sister probably found it unfair that Robb got to marry someone he desired, while she had to marry Edrick Dayne, a man she had never met.

"It's a little weird, don't you think? In a few days, Robb will be married, and in a year he'll probably have a little baby," Bran said, chuckling. Once again Arya was struck by how unfair life was; Bran would never have children, and perhaps not even a wife.

"I hope it's a boy," Rickon said. "Then I'll teach him archery."

Arya snorted. "You can't teach him anything you don't know, stupid!"

Rickon gave her an offended look and punched her hard in the shoulder. She groaned in pain, and caught her little brother by his elbow, forcing his arm behind his back.

"Apologize," she ordered, twisting his wrist. Rickon yelped in agony, but shook his head.

"Never!"

"You'll regret this," she told him, but instead of snapping his wrist off like he thought she would, she bent down and kissed his cheek. The little boy jerked away from her and rubbed his cheek violently.

"Gross Arya!" he yelled, glaring at her. The others laughed as he ran up the stairs and slammed the door to his chamber shut.

But instead of joining her siblings in the family room, where Bran had challenged Sansa in a game of chess, she turned and headed outside instead. The welcoming feast would not be until twilight, and Arya wanted to enjoy the fresh air a little longer. Nymeria came running toward her and Arya saw a rope flapping behind her.

"Nymeria! Did you chew over the rope and escape?" she tried to sound angry, but the wolf licked her hand and looked affectionately at her. Her parents had told the children to tie their wolves up so they wouldn't frighten the guest on their arrival. Arya crouched down and petted the wolf's thick fur. "I should have known a rope wouldn't be good enough. The next time, we'll use a chain made of steel."

With Nymeria by her side, she ran through the market yard, greeting familiar faces with a smile. She stopped and bought a carrot from the vegetable stand and ran to the stable where her horse was tied up. "Here you go, girl," she scratched the horse's mane and fed her the carrot, which she ate hungrily.

"Is that a wolf?" a voice asked from behind her. Arya jumped around, startled by the strange voice. She looked up at the face of Dickon Tarly, who was much taller than her. His hair was a much lighter shade of brown than his mother's and sister's, but his eyes were just as brown.

"A direwolf as a matter of fact," Arya said, slightly hostile.

"Why would anyone want a wolf for a pet?" he looked at her in disbelief, but bent down to pet Nymeria's fur. A growl from the bottom of her throat made the boy back away and he gave Arya a strange look.

"She looks dangerous," he said.

Arya snorted. "She's only mean to people I dislike."

Dickon cocked his brow and looked at her. "Does that mean you do not like me?" he sounded slightly offended. "The benefit of the doubt would have been nice. You met me just now."

Arya shrugged and turned to leave. She had no desire to talk to this Dickon any longer, but he seized her hand and jerked her around gently. Nymeria's growl grew louder, and he let her arm go.

"I'll see you at the feast than," he said and smiled. "My lady."

Arya glared after him, before she realized he was right; she had judged him before getting to know him, and that was unfair of her. She of all people ought to know how hurtful it could be when people came with assumptions about you. Sulking, she exited the stable only to bump into someone and fall to the ground.

"I'm sorry, m'lady," a familiar voice said and gave her a helping hand. Arya accepted and looked at Gendry with furious eyes.

"You ought to see where you're going," she snapped. "And stop calling me m'lady!" he chuckled and bent down to pick up something he had dropped in the encounter.

"You look nice," he said after giving her a few stolen glances, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Different, but nice."

She snorted. "Well, don't get used to it. As soon as the feast is over, I'll never wear this stupid dress again!"

He smiled and motioned to her behind. "Perhaps you ought to change before the feast. One wouldn't want Lord Dickon Tarly to see you in a dirty dress." She sensed some bitterness in his voice, but chose to ignore it. She was not in the mood to play guessing games with Gendry today. If there were something on his mind, he ought to just say it.

"I wouldn't care if he saw me in my usual clothing," she spat, turning to leave. Gendry however, followed her.

"Won't it be nice being the lady of Horn Hill? You do realize that is why the boy came along on the journey, don't you?"

Arya stopped abruptly and grimaced at him. He wasn't serious, was he? "Liar," she said, but Gendry shook his head determinedly.

"You're stupid," she said and continued to walk. If that was true, she had to find her father and find out for herself.

Gendry scoffed and let her walk away. "A pleasure as always, m'lady," he called after her in a grim voice.

* * *

Arya had not been able to find her father before the feast, and had therefor seeked her sister for advice. After she gave the gift to Sansa, her sister had been remarkably friendlier towards her. She ought to have bought her a necklace years ago!

"It makes sense, though," Sansa said, pursing her lips. "I mean, you are the same age – and mother and father said they would try to find us husbands who were neither too old nor too young for us, and he is to be Lord of Horn Hill someday."

Arya crossed her arms and sulked. "I don't want to be lady of Horn Hill! It's not even snow down there, I would melt away!"

"Our opinions don't matter much, do they? In the end, father makes the final decision." She replied through clenched teeth. "if he wants you to marry Dickon Tarly, you will marry him."

Sansa tucked a hair stray inside the elegant do her sister had spent hours on earlier that day, and cursed when she saw the state her dress was in.

"Arya, honestly, can't you for once act like a proper lady?" she asked while helping her sister to get out of the dress without messing her hair up even more. Arya bit back a sarcastic retort and simply let Sansa yell at her for a while. She probably deserved what she got anyway. When her sister was done, her face softened and she stroked Arya's cheek affectionately.

"I don't think Dickon seemed so bad. At least he looks better than his father, and he seemed to be pretty athletic too. Perhaps the two of you could fight with swords together."

Arya rolled her eyes and stared into the mirror. She didn't want to fight with swords with Dickon, she wanted to fight with Gendry!

* * *

Gendry

As he entered the great hall with Mikken and Myra, Gendry felt out of place among the nicely dressed people. They seated themselves in the back, furthest away from the Lords' children's table, but Gendry – tall as he was – still had a perfect view of everyone in the room. He saw Arya seated next to her sister and her brother in the rolling chair. She had changed into a green dress. It looked beautiful on her, but still very plain compared to the Tarly's dresses. Although she smiled to whoever greeted them, he could see that she was not very happy about being there today. Had she honestly not realized that her father intended to marry her off to Dickon? Although it was Mikken who had told him so, it was very obvious; they were both high-born and would soon be connected by one marriage. The Tarly girl sat next to her future husband by the high table next to the throne along with Lord and Lady stark and Lord and Lady Tarly. As he searched the rest of the room, he saw Dickon Tarly fight his way through the crowd, his eyes fastened on Arya. He suddenly wished she hadn't gotten all dressed up and pretty today. Perhaps the young lord would not have liked her as much if he had seen her in her usual breeches and with dirt on her face.

"Withdraw your eyes, boy," Mikken said warningly beside him. "I've heard Dickon Tarly is rather talented with a blade, you wouldn't want to get on his bad side."

Gendry did as his master told him, and stared down at his food. However, he would catch himself staring at Arya from time to time, wishing he was the one sitting across from her instead of Dickon Tarly.


	6. Chapter 6

**You guys are the best! Here's a little more Gendry/Arya chapter for you as a reward for your awesome reviews. _keep them coming. _**

* * *

Arya

Chapter 6

She met up with Gendry in the woods the day after, and felt her mood lighten remarkably by his presence. They fought with sticks until they were both out of breath, battered and bruised. She had stolen some pie from the kitchen and handed him a piece when they sat down by the lake which were completely covered with ice. He accepted it gratefully.

"How was the feast yesterday?" he asked. Arya shrugged. Dickon had nagged all night about High Horn, and about the fact that he soon would be lord.

"It was okay I guess," she said. "Dickon confirmed your theory. Our parents do indeed want us to be married." She still couldn't believe her father had not told her so when she had asked only a few days before. He usually told her everything, or so she had thought.

Gendry nodded. "And how do you feel about this betrothal?"

Arya thought she saw his eyes flicker as she shrugged again. "I don't want to be a lady," she said for what felt like the thousandth time.

"I think you'd be a poor one at that too," he said, chuckling. Arya frowned and punched him lightly in the arm.

"I wish they would just leave already," she sighed and lay back in the snow, staring up at the blue sky. "The sooner Dickon's gone the better. He actually challenged me at swordplay today. That git."

"And you turned him down?" Gendry asked in surprise. "I thought you'd take any challenge only to prove how good you are."

Arya scoffed. "I told him I did not have the time. Besides, if I had fought him, I would have been too tired to fight you."

He smiled at that and lay down next to her. She was surprised by how accustomed she had gotten to the smith, even though they had only known each other for a week. Every other day they, after he was done in the forge, they would meet in the Wolfswood by the lake and fight until they were both out of breath, and then they would just lie there. Sometimes they did not talk at all, which was nice. A few days ago she had told him how much she hated the idea of marriage, and he seemed to understand, but had asked her if she didn't want kids. Arya had screwed up her face and snorted.

"No! Do you?"

He had shrugged. "I might. One day." A myserious smile had erupted on his face then, and he had looked at her with a strange look, just like he was looking at her now.

"Why are you always smiling? You make it seem as if your life is perfect," she said scolding. He sighed loudly and put his arms under his head, staring up at the sky while he said: "Right now, it almost is."

He told her about how he was daily set to make necklaces, and about all the husbands who had visited the forge to buy something nice for their wives. "Mikken even says that if this continues, he'll build a stand outside where Myra can sell the necklaces while I make them," his voice revealed how proud and excited he was by the idea. When she asked him why his life was only 'almost perfect', he smiled and winked at her.

"Perhaps I'll tell you someday."

The castle was drowning in servants and decorations. Sansa was constantly by Talla's side, discussing wedding dresses and hair-styles. If Arya hadn't known better, it seemed as though Sansa was starting to look forward to her own wedding. As she hadn't seen her with Jory lately, she reckoned they had broken things off, and judging by his daily visit to the brothel outside the walls, Jory wasn't taking it very well.

Robb had asked her if she could show Dickon Winterfell, but she had told him to go kiss his own arse, and he had stopped mentioning Dickon's name in front of her. Arya kept trying to get her father alone, but he was always in company of either Dickon or Lord Tarly, and Arya knew what they were discussing. The wedding she hadn't even given her consent to.

Because of the wedding madness within the castle walls, Arya found herself seeking the forge more often than she usually would have. Luckily, Mikken didn't complain about having her around, and let her watch as Gendry worked with the steel. Although they didn't talk, she enjoyed watching his muscles flex and found the process most enduring; how he could transform a piece of steel to either an elegant dagger or a beautiful necklace was almost like magic. Sometimes, he would sneak a little trinket into his hand when Mikken wasn't looking. One time it had been a miniature wolf he had worked on the day before, and another time it was a beautiful necklace with a green rock in the middle. She wondered if he had to pay for the things he gave her, and decided she would buy another necklace next time she visited the forge, just to make up for the gifts.

* * *

At the day of the wedding, Arya wore the spiral necklace Gendry had given her, earning curious questions from her sister. Arya simply smiled and asked if she could help set her hair up. Wearing the necklace made her feel more beautiful than she had ever felt before. As she really didn't have any dresses in strong colors, Arya settled on a tight, grey one. She had never been very interested in fashion, but knew when she looked in the mirror, that she looked gorgeous.

"When I'm lady Dayne, I will have a closet full of silk dresses. Perhaps I ought to send a few to Winterfell. Your dresses are so plain and boring," Sansa said while braiding her hair. Arya frowned, staring down at her necklace.

"I don't care about dresses."

Sansa sighed in despair but let it go. Perhaps she finally accepted that Arya was a lost cause.

Gendry accepted the new garments Myra handed him with a firm smile. He didn't like how they always bought him clothes and refused to let him pay, but both Myra and Mikken were as stubborn as donkeys.

"I saw the young Stark girl just now. She was wearing one of your necklaces, Gendry. I didn't realize she had purchased more of your work," Myra said, adjusting his tunic. Gendry looked away, avoiding her gaze.

"The lad is trying to seduce the young lady with gifts," Mikken snorted. Gendry felt his face redden. "I hope you pay for all the pretty little things you give her. I'm not made of money."

All this time, Gendry had thought Mikken had been oblivious to the gifts he put in Arya's hand when she least expected it. Of course he would pay for the material, but strictly speaking, _he_ was the one who made them.

Myra patted his shoulder sympathetically. "She really did grow up to be a beautiful young woman. We had our doubts for a while."

"The boy is blinded by her beauty," Mikken shook his head in disapproval. "He believes that if he gives the girl enough gifts, she will want to marry him."

"I do not!" Gendry spat.

Myra shot her husband an angry look. "Mikken, sometimes you really are an obnoxious fool."

Gendry felt his ears burn as he put on his new leather west. It wasn't like that; he simply wanted to do something nice for her because she had been so sad. But telling Mikken so would only make matters worse.

"She's my friend," he told him instead, but Mikken simply sniggered and disappeared down the stairs. When alone, Myra stroke his arm and gave him a weak smile.

"She's lucky to have a friend like you," she told him before hurrying after her husband. However, the look of worry did not go past Gendry, and he felt his insides twist. He knew perfectly well that he was only a blacksmith, not worthy of a lady's love, but no matter how many times he told himself so, he couldn't stop thinking about Arya's long braid and deep gray eyes. And her enchanting laughter lured a smile to appear on his face. She truly was beautiful.

Arya watched in amusement as the bride and groom exchanged capes and gave each other a small little kiss on the lips. The first of many, she thought, shuddering. All of Winterfell was invited to the wedding, and the great hall was packed with people. Arya was seated between Dickon and Sansa, who kept shooting her knowing looks whenever Dickon said something funny or flirtatious. In the beginning, Arya tried hard not to laugh by his japes, but as the night went on and she had more and more wine, Dickon only seemed to grow funnier. She saw her father from the high table give her a relieved look and whisper something to her lady mother, who immediately turned to look at her, a smile on her face. If her parents had been unsure about the marriage before, surely seeing them having fun together changed her mind. But Arya was in too good mood to put on a show, and pushed all the worries of her future back in her mind, and let herself enjoy Dickon's company. He truly doesn't look that bad, she reflected as she watched him describe a swordfight, his hands moving eagerly in his excitement. His hair frequently fell down in his eyes, and when he ran his hands through his bang to push it away, he reminded her of Gendry. She glanced over at the blacksmith, and saw to her surprise that he was staring at her. As their gazes met, he looked away quickly, his cheek flushing. Arya sighed and turned back to Dickon. She really liked her black-haired friend, but sometimes he acted strange, and would say stupid things or look at her funny. She hated that. Looking back at the smith, she saw him pouring himself cup after cup with wine, only to gulp it all down and pour yet another until Myra noticed and took the wine jug away from him.

The feast lasted to the middle of the night, before people shouted for the bedding. Arya watched in horror as the men gathered around Talla, ripping her dress off, until she wore nothing but her undergarments. What was the meaning of this? If there were any part of her future wedding she dreaded, it had to be the damn bedding.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a black-haired man disappear through the back door. Jumping to her feet, she followed him, _swift as a deer._ She found him hunched over the gutter, vomiting. Stopping a few feet away, she cleared her throat to make her presence noticed.

"Shouldn't you get back to your future husband?" Gendry asked darkly without looking at her. Arya frowned. What was up with him?

"You're drunk," she stated. Gendry let out a hollow laugh and turned to her.

"Congratulations, M'lady," he stumbled towards her, wiping his mouth on his tunic. His eyes lingered at the necklace by her chest, and she felt suddenly very exposed.

"Your future husband stopped by the forge today. He'd like to buy you a necklace. Which one would you like best? Mine or the one he gives you?"

Arya scoffed, crossing her arms. "You're being stupid," she said. Gendry laughed again, reaching out to touch the green rock.

"Do you know why the necklace is green m'lady?" he asked. When she shook her head, he sniggered under his breath and took a large sip of a wine flask. Arya reached out to take it away from him, but he clutched his hand around it, protecting it from her grip.

"You're so oblivious," he sighed, cupping her chin. "You don't know how beautiful you really are, even with mud in your hair and dirt on your breeches."

Arya jerked out of his grip, taking a few steps backwards. He was starting to scare her. Although she could easily beat him when he was in this condition, the idea of beating a drunk was not very appealing.

"Go home," she told him, her voice as stern as her mother's. Gendry looked at her, his eyes sad like a little pup's. Then he bowed, took a sip of his flask and backed away.

"As my lady commands."

* * *

Catelyn watched the scene from the great hall's large windows. She saw Arya approach her blacksmith friend, her arms wrapped around her stomach to protect herself from the cold. The smith had been vomiting, and then said something that obviously offended her. As he moved closer, Arya stared up at him. Gendry was staring at her daughter's chest, or perhaps it was her new necklace he was eying, but whatever it was, Cat could see how uncomfortable it made her daughter. She was about to interfere when Gendry's hand cup Arya's chin, and he stared down at her with affection gleaming in his eyes. Cat was afraid they might kiss, but luckily, Arya pulled away, staring angrily at him. _Good girl_, Cat thought in relief. She had seemed to get along very well with Dickon, and perhaps she wouldn't be so against marrying him if she knew the man she was to marry. Ned felt bad for not telling Arya their intentions, but knew his daughter would resent the boy if she knew he was her future husband. It had been Catelyn's idea to let them get to know each other before they pushed them into a wedding. The Tarly's had believed them mad, but went along, however reluctantly. Cat had finally eyed hope for his daughter, but seeing her stare after the smith made her stomach twist. If she didn't put a stopper to Arya's friendship with the boy, Sansa and Jory's story might be repeated. And Cat was not sure Arya would be as persuasive as Sansa.

* * *

**So, I've written like 16 chapters by now which means I can update more frequently. Let me just put it like this: The more reviews I get, the sooner I will update. **


	7. Chapter 7

**I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate your reviews! And since you guys are so awesome and flattering, I will post 2 chapters today! Enjoy my sweet readers.**

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Arya

Chapter 7

Arya had expected the Tarly's to leave right after their daughter were wedded and bedded, but to her disappointment they stayed for several days after, and still showed no intentions of leaving. Her parent's seemed thrilled to be honored with their company for so long. Arya had given up on trying getting her father alone. Perhaps if she didn't mention anything about her suspicions, they would magically disappear. A foolish thought, she knew, but right now it was the only hope she had.

After the wedding, Gendry avoided her. They were supposed to meet in the woods the day after, but he had not shown, nor had he two days later. Whenever she went to the forge to see him, he said he was too busy to have her hovering over him, and so she left him alone, but his absence was very much noticed, and she caught herself missing their fights and conversations - Even watching him work. She finally accepted Dickon's request to take a ride outside the castle, however so reluctant. When they reached the highest hill with the splendid view, the young man seemed highly impressed.

"At Horn Hill the landscape is mostly rocks and hills," he said. "But you'll get used to it soon enough."

Arya bit her lip to stop a filthy comment from passing. Had her parents already given the Tarly's their consent without asking her what she wanted?

"I hope you will reconsider my offer to duel, my lady. Your brothers talk so highly of you, I'm curious to see if their words are true." Arya wanted to tell him that her brothers weren't liars, but stopped just in time. If she truly had to marry this man, she ought not to insult him, or their marriage would be a nightmare.

"I guess we could do so as long as you are not a sour loser," she said instead, smirking. Dickon laughed and assured her that he was not. Her mother had forbidden her to fight with the boys in the yard, and Arya- for once in her life- had obeyed her mother's orders. The only practice she had had in the last couple of weeks were her stick fighting with Gendry, but since he no longer spoke to her, it had been days since she last practiced.

When they returned to WInterfell, they gave their horses to a stable man, and ran to the fighting yard were Syrio were giving Rickon a dancing lesson. Arya stopped by the well and watched as Rickon tried to disarm the foreigner, but Syrio gracefully blocked his attack.

"Come on, Rickon!" Arya cheered, making Rickon turn in surprise and Syrio bumped the fake sword at his belly.

"Dead," the dancing master grinned. Rickon threw his sword to the ground, scowling angrily at Arya.

"That was your fault!" he said and stomped furiously past them. Arya laughed and motioned for Dickon to follow her as she approached Syrio.

"It's been so many days since I've had the pleasure of the lady's fighting," he said, smiling. Arya grimaced.

"My lady mother told me not to as long as we had visitor. _It's not appropriate for a young lady to play with swords_," she mimicked, frowning.

Syrio handed her the sword he was holding. "But yet, here you are, disobeying your mother as always. I take it you want to duel?" he looked expectantly at Dickon, who nodded. Syrio handed him a sword and said: "Good luck, my lord. Arya might seem small and innocent, but she has been under my teaching for a year. I fear for every man who is brave enough to encounter this young beauty in combat."

The dancing master backed away, leaving Dickon with an amused smile on his face.

"Your brothers aren't the only bragging of how good you are," he stated. Arya shrugged innocently and juggled the sword elegantly from her right to left hand like she always did before a fight.

"You ready?" she asked, feeling the excitement of finally holding a sword again jolt through her. Dickon nodded and on Syrio's count she ducked his first blow. As she danced around him, he moved confused to see where she went, and she managed to poke his sword into his hip. Smiling, he positioned himself again and was much wearier when she moved around him, managing to block several of her blows. Arya let out a thrilled laughter, thinking that Dickon was a much better swordsman than Gendry, whom she won against every time. However, the thought that Gendry perhaps let her win had hit her several times. Dickon on the other hand, did his best to catch up with her as she jumped around, avoiding his sword. It was when she knocked him to the ground and poked her sword into his stomach he put his hands up defensively and yelled: "I yield!"

Laughing, she pulled him back to his feet. First she was afraid he might be angry because he lost against her, but when a smile erupted on her face, she decided she wouldn't have cared either way.

"Your brothers were right," Dickon panted, adjusting his tunics. "I was outmatched. How embarrassing."

Arya snorted with laughter and looked over at Syrio who was nodding approvingly. Behind him, she recognized Gendry leaning on the wooden fence. His face was dark with fury, and his hands balled up into big fists. She avoided his glare and followed Dickon as he asked if he could escort him to the great hall where it would be served supper at any moment.

* * *

Catelyn

As Catelyn led Lady Tarly to the little sept Ned had built for her, the lady stopped abruptly to watch a swordfight in the yard. Catelyn recognized a long braid of brown hair flap in the wind, and sighed inside. Arya had disobeyed her orders yet again. Surely Lady Tarly didn't want her son to marry a girl as wild as Arya.

"Is that your daughter?" Lady Tarly asked. Catelyn nodded, sighing. Perhaps this was for the better; now at least the Tarly's knew what they got and wouldn't be disappointed when Arya showed her true self after being wed to their son.

"Yes. She's been spending too much time with her brother's unfortunately," Catelyn said, trying to sound indifferent.

"And is that my son she's fighting?" Lady Tarly asked, bewildered. Catelyn felt her heart skip a beat. _Oh, my dear daughter -please let the boy win_, she thought, but judging by the way Arya dodged every blow he sent her way, Arya was not holding back her skills.

"She's quick," Lady Tarly stated in amazement. "Are you sure she's not more suitable as a knight like Brienne of Tarth?" Catelyn did not miss the japing tone in her voice, and clenched her hands into fists.

"She's very energetic, and this is one of her ways to blow off some steam. I'm sure as she grows older, she won't find swordfight and archery as amusing as she does now," Cat said, forcing a smile.

Lady Tarly shook her head in disapproval. "I will not judge your way of raising your child, Lady Stark, but letting your daughter run around in boy's clothing and fight with swords is not appropriate for a lady."

Catelyn bit her lip. "She's a stubborn little girl," she said apologetically, just as Arya knocked Dickon to the ground and poked the sword into his stomach.

"Now, look how sweet, my son let her win. He's a real gentleman that one," she smiled. "I have another son as well, you know. He's in the night's watch, just like your husband's bastard. He too was always different." She glanced at Arya again, and let out a little sigh. "Perhaps different isn't always a bad thing."

Catelyn wondered what she meant with that, but did not ask. Hoping the wedding was still on, she continued after Lady Tarly to the Sept.

* * *

Gendry

Gendry stood by the fence long after Arya and her new friend had gone, and watched as Syrio gathered the swords together and locked them in a chest by the castle wall. Frowning, Gendry turned away and headed back to the forge when a petit figure stopped him.

Arya stood in front of him, her hands placed on her hips and a stubborn expression on her face. He tried to pass her, but her wolf leapt in front of him, growling.

"So you won't talk to me, but spying on me is supposed to be okay?" she asked accusingly, narrowing her eyes at him. Gendry clenched his jaw shut, making another attempt to escape her and her wolf.

"I don't understand why you're so upset with me. You were the drunken one, not me. And I'm not the one avoiding you, stupid."

He met her gaze, shuddering. Her deep gray eyes were gleaming with accusation.

"Let me pass. I need to go back to the forge," he barked, but Arya stood her ground.

"I am Lady Arya Stark, soon to be Tarly, and I demand you to tell me what the seven hells is wrong with you!"

Gendry snorted. "I knew there was a lady somewhere inside that little façade of yours. This is what you all do; command low-born ones like me around, toying with our feelings."

Arya gaped at him. How could she still not understand?

"You are acting stupid!" she snapped. "You are only a stupid bull-headed man who makes absolutely no sense, and I am growing tired of following you around, trying to figure out why you are so upset with me."

"Good, then perhaps now you will leave me be," he said, locking her gaze in his.

"With pleasure," Arya said through clenched teeth.

Gendry bowed. "If it pleases m'lady I'd like to get back to work now," he said. Arya scoffed, letting him walk past him.

Gendry was still shaking with anger as he started to work on a necklace, and wasn't able to get the steel in the shape he wanted. Furious, he threw the necklace at the wall, causing it to break. Mikken eyed him curiously from the oven, but didn't say anything. As Gendry went to pick the jewelry up from the floor, he realized he would have to melt it down and start all over again. While throwing the steel into the pan above the flames, Mikken handed him a drawing of a longsword.

"Lord Stark wants this for his newly wed son," he said and returned to his work. Gendry glanced down at the sword, and shot Mikken a grateful look. As he hammered down at the steel, putting all of his anger and frustration in every blow, he felt remarkably better.

* * *

Ned

Ned accepted the note Maester Luwin handed him and thanked him for his service. He had written to the king and asked if he could stay at the castle in King's Landing for a few weeks. His excuse had been to catch up with an old friend, leaving out the truth about finding the reason to Jon Arryn's death. King Robert had luckily been naive as usual, and as Ned read the letter, he sighed in relief.

_To Ned. It would be a pleasure to receive you at King's Landing. It's about time you get some color on that pale face of yours. When will I be expecting you? _

_Robert_

If the king was suspicious, he did not reveal so in the letter. Of course, Ned would wait until Sansa's departure before he too would go. That way, they could travel together for a month before he finally had to part ways with his daughter for gods know how long. When he told Catelyn of his plans, she had not been too thrilled, but did not fight him on the subject.

"If my suspicions are true, the rightful heir to the throne lives within the walls of Winterfell," he said, stroking his wife's cheek. Catelyn shot him a confused look, but realized he would not tell her more. "The less you know, the better," he assured her and kissed her forehead. As Sansa had finally put her little romance with Jory aside, they would leave for the south in two weeks. They decided that if the Tarly's wished to stay at Winterfell after their departure, it would be best if Arya stayed behind with Robb and Bran, while they would bring Rickon. Catelyn was to see her daughter safely off to Dorne; she wished not sending the girl alone like she had been sent to Winterfell by her parents, and wanted to support her daughter every step of the road. Ned respected her wish and would send a hundred guards to look after them on their journey. He made a mental note to make sure Jory was not one of them.

"Lady Melessa saw Arya fight in the yard today. She won against Dickon," Catelyn said as she pulled the covers over herself. Ned wasn't able to hide his pride, and smiled widely.

"Really?"

Catelyn scoffed. "Honestly, love, there's no wonder she is as wild as she is. You keep encouraging her! You should have seen Melessa's face when Arya poked the sword into Dickon's belly – she believed her son had lost on purpose, but it was obvious Arya had the upper hand throughout the whole fight. That is no way for a lady to act."

Ned sighed, tired of having the same conversation over and over. "Arya is like she is, and I love her no less because of it. Her desire to follow her own path is admireable. Besides, she seems to like Dickon well enough. Before we know it, we will have two married daughters."

"I'm not sure Lord Randyll will take her liking for sword fighting as lightly as his wife. What if they no longer want her as a wife to their son?" she looked at him with a worried look.

"Then we will find a new match for her, someone who respects her for who she is. I am not to force my daughter to change because some stuck-up old fool thinks she is too unladylike. She is my beloved daughter, and if they don't like her, they don't deserve to have her as their kin." She must have sensed his determination, as she kept quiet about the subject for the rest of the evening.

"At least she's not running around with that blacksmith boy anymore," she said under her breath.


	8. Chapter 8

Arya

Chapter 8

Arya was surprised by how hard it would be to say goodbye to her sister on the day of her departure. She had spent the last day helping Sansa packing up her things in heavy chests. Her chamber seemed awfully empty as three servant came to carry her belonging downstairs.

"I'll miss you," Arya said, hugging her sister one last time. Sansa clutched to her as if her life depended on it.

"I wish you'd come with us to Dorne," she whispered. Arya nodded. She too would do anything to escape Winterfell for a few months, even if the journey to Dorne would take a little less than two months.

A tear rolled down Sansa's cheek as they broke apart. Arya wiped the tear away with her sleeve.

"Now you be a good wife," she told her sister, smiling meekly at her. Sansa let out a snort of laughter and nodded.

"And you be a good host to the Tarly's," Sansa replied, her voice weak. As they left the chamber, Sansa stopped in the doorway and looked around for what was possibly the last time in her life. The sight that met her downstairs made Arya feel even sadder, and Sansa burst into tears. Her brother's stood in a row, all wearing dim expressions on their faces. Sansa bent down to kiss Bran's forehead, whispering something in his ear. Robb wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her off the floor in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'll miss you little sister," he told her. Sansa wiped away the tears, putting on a brave face. Rickon, who would accompany them south, only smiled and offered Sansa his arm. Sansa let out a nervous laugh and let him escort her to the awaiting wagon. They all followed them out to the court yard, where several of the inhabitants had gathered to take farewell with the oldest Stark sister. Arya felt her eyes sting, and forced herself not to cry. She tried to think of all the fights she and Sansa had, but they simply made her miss her presence even more.

They said farewell to their parents as well, but no one shed a tear for them as they would see them again in a few months. Rickon waved to them, eager to get going. Just as Arya, he had never been further south than Torhen's square, and Arya envied him for being allowed to go. She wished the Tarly's would leave already so she too would be able to leave with her sister.

"I'll miss you!" Sansa called as the wagon started moving. Arya waved violently until the wagon was out of sight. Sighing, she turned to her brothers who were both staring up at the first keep. Following their eyes, she looked up as well and saw a tall figure through the window. Jory was seated alone, staring down at the departing group, his face positively grimmer than Arya had ever seen any man look. She felt her heart ache for both Jory and Sansa, and cursed the world for being so unfair as to keep two loving souls apart.

"She'll write soon," Robb said, tearing his gaze from the grieving guard. "She promised she would." Arya and Bran nodded, both staring at the court yard where Sansa's wagon had been. Jon was gone, and so was Sansa. Soon it would be her turn to go.

Arya felt down for the rest of the day, and not even Dickon's encouraging japes managed to cheer her up. In fact, they only made her more depressed, and she found herself longing for Gendry's quiet character. Dickon talked and never shut up for more than ten seconds, before he would say something else. She wanted to be left alone more than anything, and spent the day dodging him. When he found her in the kennel, petting the dogs, she had enough and snapped at him to leave her alone before she stabbed him in the heart with a dagger. Dickon's eyes had widened in shock, but at least he obeyed and left to find his parents. Arya's desire to be alone led her to the wolfswood where she lay completely silent in the snow, staring up at the dark clouds. It would start snowing in any second, she knew, but didn't care. Perhaps if she lay her long enough, the snow would cover her and she would be gone from the world forever.

She suddenly heard movement from the woods. "Nymeria, leave me alone," she told her wolf, before she realized she only heard two feet walk through the snow. And there he was, his hair as dark as coal with a green cloak wrapped around himself. Without a word, he lay down next to her, staring up at the clouds as heavy snow started falling. Arya felt her throat thicken and tears stung her eyes. She had noy allowed herself to cry in front of Sansa or Dickon, but Gendry was different. Gendry was her friend, and she didn't have to act all tough and indifferent when around him. He understood her almost as well as Jon had. And as the tears streamed down her cheek, and an occasional sob escaped her lips, Gendry took her hand in his and squeezed it, letting him know he was there. And just like that, everything that had happened between them were forgiven and they were back to being friends.

* * *

The days that followed seemed gray and meaningless. What startled Arya the most was how depressed her sister's departure had made her. How many times hadn't she wanted to beat her sister into a bloody pulp because she was so mad at her? But how could she be mad at someone she probably would never see again. Just like Jon, Sansa were out of her lives forever. Robb was starting to get anxious for her, and challenged her to a duel, but Arya had turned him down. She would rather spend her days in the wolfswood, wipping a tree with a stick or simply just lay there in the snow. Sometimes, Gendry would find here there, and he would make her sister's absent a little less noticeable, but then Arya would think of her upcoming marriage to Dickon, and the world fell apart all over again. More than once she considered running away, leaving Winterfell forever, but something always held her back. She was a Stark and Starks did not run away from their problems. They confronted them and found a way to solve them.

When she asked Robb how long the Tarly's expected to stay with them, he shrugged and said with his jaw clenched: "I think they want to see if you truly are appropriate for their son. Either that, or they are watching me to see how I am as a husband to their eldest daughter."

Arya started visiting the forge daily again, watching Gendry work. It was a nice place to hide from Dickon, who had decided that her threat had simply been a bad jape and started stalking her again. But then one day, her husband-to-be had entered the smithy and looked right at her, his eyes wide with surprise. Arya would have hidden if he had not already seen her, but judging by the look on his face, it was too late. Gendry cleared his throat and asked if he needed anything. Arya saw Mikken turn to watch with an amused smile on his face.

"A word with Arya, please," Dickon said. Arya could hear how much effort it cost him to keep his voice calm, and when he motioned for her to follow him outside, she obeyed. He seized her elbow and pulled her into an alley behind the forge.

"What are you doing with _him_?" he asked accusingly. Arya gaped at him, jerking her arm from his tight grip.

"He's my friend. I watch him work, that's all," she replied, meeting his narrowed eyes.

"Are you taking me for a fool?" he asked through clenched teeth. Arya shook her head, feeling her blood boil. So this was Dickon's true self. Not only did his mouth never take a break, but he was an overprotective, jealous git.

"I don't want the two of you to spend any more time together," he said. "You lady mother said-"

"My mother said what?" Arya asked, cutting him off. This ought to be interesting!

Dickon hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "She told me I ought to watch out for the blacksmith- that he likes you."

Arya laughed by this – a deep, hollow laugh that echoed through the alley. Of course her mother would say that. She would do anything to prevent an incident like Sansa's to repeat itself. Now everything made sense. That was why the Tarly's were still here, they were making sure nothing happened between her and Gendry. That was probably why Dickon was so damn pestering.

"So you are spying on me?" she asked, shooting him a challenging look.

Dickon frowned. "Watching over is more like it, and I do not like what we have discovered."

"And what would that be?"

"You've been meeting the smith in the forest. My man saw you holding hands…"

Arya snorted. He had to be referring to the day Sansa left, as it was the only time Gendry had ever held her hand. Suddenly, she saw a way out of the marriage, and she jumped at it as quickly as it had come to her mind.

"What do you suspect is going on between Gendry and me?" she asked. Dickon crossed his arms and pursed his lips, reminding her of his father. Dickon too would probably end up bold and grumpy, and who would want a husband like that?

"I believe you would rather marry that low-born blacksmith instead of me," he said in a harsh voice.

Arya smirked slyly. "Perhaps I do."

The Tarly's left the day after, to all of Winterfell's relief. Well, all but Talla, who wondered what or who had driven them away so suddenly. Arya kept her mouth shut and simply shrugged when she asked, but Robb caught her smirk and winked at her. Arya wondered what her mother would say when she returned. She suspected she would be very angry with her, but perhaps she would forgive her when Arya told her the Tarly's were spying on her, and left because of a stupid suspicion. She needed not reveal that she had confirmed their theory.

* * *

Gendry had sneaked after Arya as she was being pulled by Dickon to the alley, and had listened to their conversation behind the corner. When he left, Mikken had simply sighed but did not try to stop him, for which Gendry was grateful. When she uttered her last words, Gendry felt his stomach twist. Was she speaking the truth or was it only a lie to get out of the betrothal to Dickon? Gendry did not know, and the curiosity was driving him mad.

He stayed in the forge after closing hour that day, making a new necklace identical to the one Arya had bought for Sansa. He had been so caught up in his work, he had completely forgotten about food, and was only reminded when Myra came down with a bowl of soup.

"What are you making?" she asked and leaned over to see the howling wolf. "A direwolf."

He knew she understood who the necklace was meant for immediately, but he did not care. Although Arya normally didn't wear jewelery, he knew she would like this one, and if she did marry some high-born lord, then at least she would have something to remind her of him. Myra stroke his shoulder sympathetically. "Did I ever tell you about how Mikken and I met?"

Gendry shook his head, reluctantly putting his tools away and turned to listen.

"I believe I was even younger than Lady Stark is today. I was working in an alehouse back in King's Landing when Mikken lived with your old master's father. They were trained up together, you see, which is why Tobho knew he could trust Mikken with your safety." She gave him a weak smile before she continued. "Back then I was madly in love with a man called Rod, I do not remember his real name." Gendry already knew where the story was leading, but let her tell it anyway.

"But then my parents told me I was to marry a very promising blacksmith, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Winterfell where Mikken's family lived, because they desperately needed a new smith. At first, I hated the idea of spending my life with a man I hardly knew but after I while-"

Gendry finished her sentence with a sigh. "You learned to love him."

Myra nodded, patting his arm. "Lady Stark might seem like the only woman in the world that you can truly be happy with, but the sooner you admit to yourself that nothing can ever come out of your friendship, the sooner you can move on and find a wife of your own kin."

Gendry clenched his jaw, considering her words. If he believed Arya would ever fall in love with a low-born blacksmith – a bastard none the least, he was kidding himself. Myra was right, he needed to move on. Taking one last glance at the nearly done necklace, he picked it up and let it fall into the melting pan above the fire.


	9. Chapter 9

Here's a mushy chapter for you! Enjoy! Tell me what you think.

* * *

Chapter 9

Arya

As the months passed, Arya found she was truly happy for the first time in very long. Dickon was long gone, and so were his parents. And although she missed Sansa and Rickon, she found comfort in listening to Bran as he told stories about the children of the forest or the first men. If she was truly bored, she would help Robb with his duties as the head of Winterfell, or discussing baby names with Talla, who was already pregnant. Arya hoped for Robb's sake the first born would be a boy, and suggested they could call him Arry to honor her. Talla had laughed by this but had eagerly written it down on the list of possible baby names.

To her disdain, she found Gendry was pulling away from her again. Although he was not completely avoiding her like the last time, he no longer let her watch him work, and didn't meet her in the Wolfswood as often as before. When Arya asked him why, he had simply shrugged and murmured something about being busy.

Today however, she had managed to lure him out of Mikken's house with a promise of pie and wine, and he came with her and Nymeria out to the Wolfswood. They sat in their usual spot, laughing, eating and drinking, and for a while, the newly created crater between them was forgotten.

"I want you to kiss me," Arya suddenly said. Gendry's eyes widened in shock and he turned to look at her, his jaw open.

"Excuse me?"

"Married people kiss, don't they?" she asked. When Gendry nodded skeptically, she continued: "Perhaps if I like it, I won't be so against marriage." She knew the idea was absurd, but couldn't get it out of her head. It was worth a shot, and if anyone would be willing to test her theory, it would be Gendry.

"I'm not going to kiss you," he said, snorting. Arya felt slightly hurt as she punched his shoulder.

"I am your Lady, I command you to kiss me!"

He looked at her, his blue eyes piercing through her and for a moment she wondered if he could see all the way to her soul. "I won't do it, _m'lady_," he said stubbornly. Arya let out a frustrated groan and threw a handful of snow on him.

"Are you only saying no because I'm the one asking?" she asked him, and realized she was slightly afraid of his answer.

"Yes," he said. His words felt like a punch in her stomach. Sighing she leaned back in the snow. Well, if he didn't want to kiss her, she had to find someone else who would.

"You know your theory is stupid, right?" he asked after a moment of silence. Arya looked at him, shaking her head.

"It's not the act alone that matters, it's the person you're kissing," he told her. Arya sat up, suddenly curious.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" she asked, throwing her long braid behind her shoulder. Gendry snorted with laughter and nodded.

"When?"

"Back in King's Landing," he replied, staring up at the sky. "She was a few years older than me. It was awful."

"Why did you do it then?" Arya asked. Gendry shrugged, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"I guess I was curious, just like you," he said, smiling. Arya bit her lip, wondering if she was bold enough to ask the next question that popped into her mind.

"Have you ever… you know…" her voice was weak and quiet, and Gendry gave her a disdained look.

"You can't just ask people-"

"Why not? We're friends, aren't we?" she said, crossing her arms. "I can tell you that I've never been with anyone."

Gendry scoffed, leaning back on his elbows. "I know you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't have wondered how kissing would be like."

"But have you?" she repeated.

Gendry looked at her again, meeting her gaze, before finally shaking his head. She was slightly taking aback by this. Gendry was a very handsome man, strong and kind. She had guessed he had been very popular among the girls back in King's Landing. "Why not?" she asked.

Gendry groaned, falling back in the snow, stretching his arms behind his head. "I guess as a bastard I don't want to risk a child having my fate, you know. No one should go through life not knowing who their father is."

Arya nodded. It made sense. She had overheard Jon say the exact same thing to Theon when he tried to talk him into visiting the brothel outside the castle walls.

"But have you ever had the opportunity?" Arya looked at him as his lips twisted into a mysterious smile.

"Well, it's not very hard – one simply needs to go to the closest brothel and pay a few coins." He turned his head and gave her a strange look. "Why do you have so many questions today?"

Arya shrugged, taking another sip of wine. "I'm curious," she replied shortly.

He leaned closer, his whole weight on the one elbow nearest her. "Do you really want me to kiss you?" he asked in a gentle voice. Arya shrugged as if she didn't care whether he kissed her or not, but truth be told, she was so curious she would be willing to kiss anyone at this point. She had seen her parents kiss several times, and now that Robb and Talla were married, they hardly kept their hands off of each other, and kissed whenever they had the opportunity. Surely they wouldn't have done so if it wasn't pleasant.

"What do I get in return?" Gendry asked, smirking. Arya bit her lip, thinking, watching Nymeria as she ran into the woods.

"Wouldn't you be considered a prostitute if I paid you?" she chuckled, punching his shoulder lightly. Gendry snorted with laughter.

"I guess you're right. Perhaps I will let this one go as a favor."

Arya looked expectantly at him as he drew nearer, his eyes closed. When their lips met, she felt her stomach twist in excitement. He put a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her closer as she opened her mouth to let his tongue in. she did not really know why she did it, it only seemed like the right thing to do, and judging by his heavy breathing, it was. Tangling her fingers into his black hair, a moan escaped her lips. She could feel Gendry pulling away, but she only pulled him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Suddenly, his strong hands untangled her arms and he was free from her embrace. His expression was a mixture of shock and guilt. He let his fingers trail the edge of his red lips, and shot her a worried look. She bit her lip, dreading what came next. When she had asked him to kiss her, she had never expected it to be so _good_.

"We shouldn't have done that," he said, getting up. Arya jumped to her feet as well. "We really shouldn't have done that."

She felt annoyed, and slightly hurt by his reaction. Had it really been that bad? In that case, it had to be her. She was the only one without experience.

"I'm sorry, Arya," he said and started to walk back to the castle. Arya seized his elbow and jerked him around, forcing him to look at her.

"Why are you sorry? What's the matter?"

But Gendry shook his head, wrenching his arm free from her grip. "I'm sorry," he repeated and started running through the snow.

* * *

Gendry

Gendry kept clear of Arya for the next few days, determined never to speak to her again. He had finally started to forget about her, when she had asked him to kiss her, and he, the stupid bull he was, obeyed. When he returned home, he ignored Myra's curious looks and headed straight for his bedchamber, where he stayed for the rest of the day. He shouldn't have done it. They shouldn't have done it. Although he had imagined how it would be to kiss Arya's soft lips, he had never thought it would be so exciting. He had meant for it to be a gentle kiss to show her what the idea was, but it had ended in a heated, passionate snog. That much for pulling away from their friendship these past months. He was right back at where he was at Robb's wedding- Perhaps even further in than before. His lips still burned from her kiss, and when he licked them, they tasted of wine. Yes, wine! That had to be it! He must have drunken more than he realized. Of course, that was what made him do something so stupid as to kiss a Lady. Feeling slightly better, he was about to return to the kitchen when he caught a glimpse of a large direwolf jog across the court yard, and Arya running after it. That damn wolf should never have left the two alone. Surely Nymeria wouldn't have let him kiss her mistress. But the wolf had not been there to stop the kiss, and whenever he thought back to the moment, he felt his stomach twist and his heartbeats quicken. What was becoming of him?

* * *

Arya

As Arya entered the castle, her fingers stroking her lips, Bran came rolling out of the great hall, a letter in his hand and a wide smile on his face.

"Sansa is officially lady of Starfall!" he exclaimed happily. "A raven arrived only moments ago." He handed her the note and Arya read it quickly, recognizing her sister's delicate writing.

"She seems happy enough," she smiled, giving the note back.

"Perhaps Starfall wasn't as bad as she had expected," Bran shrugged, rolling back into the great hall were Robb and Talla was seated.

"Have anyone heard from father?" Arya asked. Although he had promised to write once a week, they had only received five letters, and he had been gone for three months.

"I'm afraid not," Robb said, stroking his wife's barely swollen belly. Arya noticed Bran giving Robb an uncertain look, and when Robb nodded encouragingly, Bran picked up another letter from the table, handing it to Arya.

"This came with Sansa's letter. I believe it is from mother."

Arya could only imagine what was so important that her mother had to write her a letter meant for her eyes only. "Excuse me," she said and hurried up to her chamber, where she lit a candle and sat down in the chair by the diamond-shaped window. She already knew how disappointed her mother was in her by reading the first sentence, and had to take a break to brace herself for the rest.

Obviously, the Tarly's had written about Gendry and her, and felt humiliated by her behavior. This had obviously ruined the bond between the families more severe than Arya had ever expected it would. As she read, she could hear her mother's strict voice reprimanding her, and suddenly felt the bad conscience for her actions jolt through her. Her mother commanded her to write an apologizing letter to the Tarly's where she would tell them that her relationship with Gendry had started long before she met Dickon. Arya didn't really understand how that would make them feel any better, but did as her mother told her to do. Even in writing, her mother could be very persuasive. Luckily, her mother had written a suggestion to what Arya might write in the letter, and in lack of anything better two write, she wrote a letter identical to her mother's suggestion, shuddering by the last sentence which said: _"I would be honored to marry your son if he changed his mind about me, but do not blame him if he don't." _

She addressed the letter to Lord and Lady Tarly and sent it immediately, hoping the raven would get lost on its way to Horn Hill. She had no desire what so ever to marry that spying idiot. Especially not now while Gendry's kiss burned deliciously on her lips.


	10. Chapter 10

**Have I told you how awesome you guys are? Well, you are! **

**I think I'm close to finished writing my story, unless my fingers suddenly come up with some random twist which makes me write another twenty chapters. actually, I've reached 22 chapters on my computer, and they are all waiting to be published. But you guys know the rules - the more you review, the sooner I update!**

_(BTW: I think some misunderstood the last chapter and thought that it was Arya's idea to write that she still wanted to marry Dickon, but she only copied a suggestion her mother had written. )_

* * *

Chapter 10

Arya

She had not spoken with Gendry for over a week, and was sourly missing his company. She considered writing him an apologetic note, but changed her mind. Had she really wronged him by asking him to kiss her? Besides, in the end, he had done so out of free will. Bran kept asking why she never spent any time at the forge anymore, and Arya told him to bugger off. The absence of her friend was bringing out the worst in her, and she feared for what she might do if anyone wronged her today.

"This came from the Tarly's," Maester Luwin told her one day when she sat in the library with Bran. She accepted the note hesitantly, but was too nervous to open it. Bran asked for permission to read it, and when she nodded, he took the letter out of her hands and read quickly through it, his eyes widening in shock.

"Arya," he said, and Arya needed not ask to know what it said. The marriage between Dickon and her were still happening.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as she covered her face with her hands, shaking her head.

"This is mother's fault! All of it! I bet she's at Horn Hill at speaking moment, coaxing the Tarly's, persuading them to let me marry that fool!"

Bran patted her back clumsily. "She only wants what's best for you," he said meekly, but Arya simply shot him a murderous look, and he kept silent.

"I wish father were here. He would never let her do that behind my back!"

Bran reminded her that he had not yet told her about his original plan to marry her off to Dickon, but Arya shook it off. "He was busy," she said, defending him even though she could have punched him for lying to her. But the lack of letters was worrying, and the remaining Stark children were afraid something might have happened to him down in King's Landing. Robb had mentioned that he wanted to ride down himself to see if he were to be found, but Talla persuaded him to write to their mother instead, as she was closer. But if Catelyn wasted her time mending the relationship between her and Dickon instead of traveling to the capital to search for Ned, she truly had mixed up her priorities.

"I didn't think Dickon was that bad," Bran said. "He made you laugh, and he didn't get angry when you beat him in swordfight."

"He spied on me," she reminded him.

"With good reason; you were sneaking around with the blacksmith!"

Arya stared at her brother in disbelief. She had believed that he at least would take her side instead of defending the spying fool.

Getting to her feet, she spat: "We are just friends. Or were- I don't know anymore. Thank you for supporting me on this, _Brandon._"

* * *

Robb

A month later, they were seated by the table, eating supper, when Robb finally received a letter from their father. Arya glanced up at him in expectation as Maester Luwin crossed the room and handed him the note.

"It is from father?" she asked; hope glistening in her sad eyes. Ever since she learned she still were to marry Dickon, she had been sulking and hardly eaten anything.

Robb unrolled the paper and read quickly through it, holding his breath. Gasping, he re-read it to make sure he had understood his father's words.

"What does it say?" Arya asked, reaching out to rip the paper out of his hands, but Robb were too quick, and carefully tucked the letter into his pocket.

"Only boring stuff about how to rule Winterfell," Robb lied, disliking the taste the words left on his tongue. He had never been a very good liar, but his father had made it very clear that this information had to remain confidential. "He sends his regards," he added, trying to cheer up Arya and Bran, but neither seemed to feel any better. "Oh, and the king is dead."

Although King Robert was only a man they had met once, the news created a strained atmosphere around the table. Talla stroke her stomach as to console the child within, while Arya dropped her fork; completely giving up on food. Bran sighed, staring out of the window, his mind obviously elsewhere.

When the supper ended, Robb excused himself and climbed the stairs to the lord's tower. Seated by the large wooden desk, Robb unfolded the letter and stared at it for what felt like hours. There it was- the truth about the new King, Joffrey Baratheon. Or should he say Lannister? The thought of Queen Cercei and Ser Jaime together made his insides wrench. And then his father had mentioned Robert's eldest bastard. Robb narrowed his eyes as he reread the last sentence. It was a risky thing to put in a letter. Ned could risk being beheaded if the wrong person had read it, but luckily, the raven had carried the letter back to Winterfell. Although Ned wasn't entirely sure who the bastard was, he said he had his suspicions, but did not dare write his name. However, he had written that the boy resembled King Robert's brother, Renly, and that Robb had met him in person more than once. Well, that clue would have been easier if Robb had had the pleasure to meet Lord Renly, but as he had never been in King's Landing, he had only other's description's to go from. He knew Renly had black hair, and rather handsome features, but that was about it.

Pulling a piece of paper from a drawer, Robb wrote a reply, where he asked when his father would be home. At the bottom, he also wrote that Arya's betrothal to Dickon had been cancelled, only to be re-established. He made sure he was clear on how much Arya resented the idea of marrying the young man, and that he was starting to worry about her health. If anyone could put a stopper to the wedding but still remain honorable, it was Ned Stark.

* * *

Gendry

Gendry was headed for the well when he saw Arya walk past him along with Nymeria. She was not running and smiling as she usually would have done on such a beautiful day, but stared at her feet, pouting. The wolf seemed to notice her mood, and trotted slowly next to her, her head hanging.

He suddenly felt bad for ignoring her these past couple of weeks, but told himself it had been necessary. Although his attraction toward the young lady had not faded, it was easier to bear when she was not around. But seeing her now, he wanted nothing more but to walk up to her and give her a warm hug or tell her a bad jape to cheer her up. Trying to push the thought of Arya out of his mind, he pumped water into his bucket, but as Arya glanced up at him, her eyes emotionless and cold, he sighed and decided he would ask her what was wrong. Her lack of friends had not gone past him, and he was sure she didn't really have anyone else to talk to. Her hollow cheek worried him, and he could swear she seemed even skinnier beneath the large cloak, but perhaps he was hallucinating.

After bringing Myra her water, Gendry ran after Arya and the wolf to the wolfswood where they were seated by the lake. As he approached them, the wolf turned its head and glared at him.

"Hi," he said meekly, stopping a few feet from her. Arya didn't move. If she had registered his presence, she was not showing it.

He cleared his throat, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Is everything alright?"

Arya still sat completely still with her back to him. As he took a few steps closer, the wolf gave him a warning growl, but Gendry ignored it. Ever since he had met Nymeria, she had done nothing but growl at him, and no matter how far he bent her boundaries, she never hurt him. He sat down next to the girl, patting her shoulder gently. Arya, startled by the touch, jerked away and gave him a dark look.

"What do you want?" she asked venomously. Gendry withdrew his hand and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"You're unhappy," he stated, staring the the dark rings around the girl's eyes. She looked as if she hadn't slept for days.

"Like you even care," she spat. Gendry wanted to pull her close and run his fingers through her dark hair, anything to make her feel happy, but he knew better. It was thoughts like these that had ruined their friendship in the first place.

Instead, he leaned closer and locked her gaze with his. "You know I do," he whispered gently. Arya's brown eyes flickered, before she dropped her gaze, uncomfortable.

"Tell me what's bothering you," he urged her, but she shook her head stubbornly. He sighed, regretting his behavior over the last weeks. Arya deserved a better friend than him, who avoided her whenever things got tough.

"Do I have to force it out of you?" he asked challenging. Arya lifted her head and looked at him, suddenly interested. "Let's duel about it," he suggested, getting to his feet while offering her a hand. "If you win, I'll stop asking, but if I win-"

Arya snorted. "I'm a Lady, Ladies do not fight with sticks." he could hear the bitterness in her words and sat back down.

"Would a proper sword please you more?" he asked jokingly, desperate to lighten her mood. Arya shook her head and crossed her arms.

"Arya," he said, cupping her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Tell me what's on your mind, like you always used to do."

She pulled away from his touch, her eyes gleaming with anger. "Nothing is as it used to be," she hissed, jumping to her feet. "You made sure of that by ignoring me for a month!"

As she started to march away, Gendry seized her elbow, pulling her back. Nymeria growled loudly from where she stood, demanding him to let go of her mistress.

"Don't touch me," Arya yelled, jerking her arm out of his grip. "If you ever seize me again, I will let Nymeria rip your throat out." Although he knew she didn't mean it, her words stung, and he backed away, slightly frightened. But as he retreated, Arya approached him, her nostrils flaring.

"What did I do to make you pull away? Was it the kiss? Was it truly that terrible you couldn't stand looking at me?" her voice cracked.

Gendry shook his head, frustrated. He could not explain his reason to avoid her without telling her how wonderful the kiss they shared had been. He could not tell her that she haunted his dreams, or that he caught himself wishing he was a lord only so he would be allowed to marry her. No matter how strong his feelings for her were, she was a lady and he was only a blacksmith.

"Arya-"

She jumped at him, pushed him, but he managed to remain on his feet. And when her little fists started punching his chest, he let her.

"You abandoned me," she yelled, punching him hard in the stomach. "You left when I needed you the most. You are supposed to be my friend, but you keep pulling away!" tears where streaming down her face by now. Her breath had grown heavy and her punches slowed down. Then she fell into his arms, worn down and exhausted. He stroke her back as she sobbed into his tunic, frequently hitting him, but not as hard as she had.

When she regained her breath, she let out a groan. "I am still to marry Dickon Tarly."

Gendry felt like someone had punched his stomach, but this time it was not Arya. The words caught him by surprise and his mind blurred. Arya Tarly. The thought of Dickon and Arya together made his blood boil with jealousy, but what could he do? He was only a blacksmith, and she would be lady of Horn Hill.

* * *

Robb

When and Talla went to bed that evening, the only thing Robb could think of was the letter he had received from his father. It was now only ashes in the fireplace, but he knew the words by heart. Before Ned left, he had told him about his conversation with Mikken; about how Gendry had evacuated King's Landing, but he never learned the reason why. Robb knew it was a longshot, but could it be possible that the newest inhabitant in Winterfell was the rightful heir to the iron throne? He did fit Renly's description perfectly with his black hair and blue eyes. How many did he really now with such an appearance? Too restless to fall asleep, he crawled out of bed and walked out on the balcony, watching Winterfell's nightlife below. He wished his father would return soon and tell him if his suspicion was true.

The night air seemed to clear his head remarkably, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a couple coming from the hunter's gate. Narrowing his eyes, he recognized Arya's skinny silhouette, and he needed not ask who the man walking next to her was. Even Robb had noticed that ever since the bastard arrived at Winterfell, a friendship had developed between Arya and him, although it seemed to have cooled off lately. But seeing them together again, Robb could not help but wonder. Could it be that Arya took after her sister and was sneaking around with Gendry, or were they only friends?

He watched as they begged each other farewell before going separate ways; Arya to the castle and Gendry to the forge. As the man disappeared behind the door, Robb saw Arya turn and stare after him, her arms wrapped around her waist. Scratched his beard in wonder, Robb returned inside, an idea appearing in his head. He had not been able to save Sansa's happiness, but perhaps he could spare Arya's?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Arya

When Robb had told them he was riding for King's Landing with Jory and a few other guards, Talla had cried and begged him to stay. Arya had watched them with weary eyes. She knew Talla was afraid that Robb wouldn't make it back until the birth, and although Maester Luwin had delivered all of the Stark children, she was inconsolable. Robb had left the same day without as much as an explanation for his sudden departure. However, Arya knew it had something to do with the letter father had sent him, and when she had gone up to the lord's tower to look for it, it was nowhere to be found. Surely Robb had been clever enough to burn it, which only meant the letter had contained serious information. Perhaps it was about the king's sudden death? Rumors were spreading that it was not, in fact, a boar that killed him, but his very own Brother, Renly Baratheon.

Arya spent the day in the forge, watching Gendry work, but even in his company, she felt like everyone were abandoning her. Bran was the only one of her siblings remaining at Winterfell, but he was always too busy studying with maester Luwin. She knew that if it hadn't been for Gendry, she would have felt more alone than ever before.

Gendry was currently working on a bull's head helmet, which Arya found very odd. Was this an order or was he simply making it for kicks? She had noticed that Mikken wasn't very strict with what he did as long as he prioritized the more important orders, but Gendry was quick and would finish whatever it was the customers wanted in a matter of hours. The helmet, however, he had spent several days on.

"Are you planning on going to war?" Arya asked.

Gendry snorted back a laugh. "No."

"Then why would you need a helmet?"

"I made one of these back in King's Landing, but had to sell it in order to get safely to Winterfell. I guess I just wanted another one," he said, shrugging. Arya didn't understand what was so appealing about a bull's helmet, but she didn't ask any more questions. What was the point of owning a helmet if you weren't planning on using it?

When the sun disappeared behind the tall walls, Myra came down, her usual smile plastered on her face.

"Lady Arya," she greeted. "Will you be dining with us?"

Arya knew she was only asking to be polite, but truth be told, the meals in the great hall was starting to depress her when there were so many empty seats.

"I would love to," she blurted, realizing she should have accepted Myra's offer a little more ladylike. The smith's wife seemed slightly taken aback and hurried upstairs to set out another plate. Gendry shot Arya a strange look, but didn't say anything.

When Mikken had gone after his wife, Gendry held her back and muttered to her: "their house isn't nearly as big as the castle you live in, and the food might be good, but not suitable for a lady." Arya shot him an irritated look and pushed him aside.

"It's a good thing I'm not a lady then," she snapped. _Yet_. But even if she knew that the smith's living area was small, she had never anticipated it to be so cramped. The table was placed by the window with a view over the court yard, and had only four chairs placed around it. To the left was two doors, and Arya guessed it were the bedchambers. Except for the kitchen in the corner, the room only contained a rocking chair and a small book shelf with a few books in as well as miniature figures of steel she reckoned Mikken had made in the forge. It made her feel bad to know that while she lived in a castle, her bedchamber as big as the smith's whole house, Mikken, Myra and Gendry lived here, cramped together. However, they didn't really seem to mind. As Myra put the pan on the table, Mikken stroke her back affectionately and gave her one of his rare smiles. Glancing at Gendry, she noticed that he was looking at her, wonder in his eyes.

"I'm afraid broth is all we have, lady Arya," Myra said humbly as she poured soup into a bowl and handed it to Arya.

"It smell's delicious," Arya said with a smile and as she brought a spoonful to her moth, she learned that it tasted even better.

"You are too kind, m'lady," Myra said, beaming. "May I ask if you have heard from your sister? She ought to be married by now, isn't she?"

Arya nodded. "Yes, she married Lord Edrick a little more than a month back. She seems happy enough." She did not know how much the workers knew about Sansa's relationship with Jory, but judging Myra's knowing nod, she assumed they knew as much as her.

As if she had been reading Arya's mind, the smith's wife said: "Poor Jory has been feeling down ever since your lady sister left. I think it was good for him to finally leave with your brother."

"Do you know when their romance first started?" Arya asked.

Myra pursed her lips, looking at her husband for help. "I believe it started a little more than a year ago, wasn't it, love? Of course, we did not find out before months after."

"She really broke his heart, didn't she?" Arya bit her lip, feeling sorry for their captain of guards.

"Indeed she did, m'lady, but Jory knew very well how it would end from the beginning. She is beautiful and kind, yes, but she is still a high-born whereas he is not." Myra's voice seemed a little bitter, and Arya could swear she saw the woman's eyes flicker toward Gendry for a moment.

Arya sighed. "It's not really fair, though. Even if he's not a lord, Jory is one of the kindest men I've ever known. It's a shame he and my sister could not have each other in the end."

Myra gave her a sad smile. "Indeed it is." Arya was no longer in doubt; the woman was staring straight at Gendry, her eyes gleaming with sympathy.

* * *

Gendry

Gendry kept quiet throughout the meal. It was strange seeing Arya in the house he considered his home; she might be a high-born, but wearing her breeches and tunic with dirt in her face and her bushy braid running down her back, she could easily be mistaken for one of them. When the women started talking about high- and low-born, he grasped at every word Arya uttered. He found himself imagining the two of them running away together- away from whatever was expected of her, only so they could be together, but the thought was so embarrassing he pushed it away. However reluctantly, Arya was to marry Dickon Tarly and would one day become Lady of Horn Hill.

After supper he had expected Arya to leave, but she offered to help Myra with the dishes, which the elder woman bluntly refused. Arya however, never takes no for an answer, and helped anyway. It actually looked as if she was enjoying herself the way she smiled down at the soapy water.

Mikken caught him staring at her, and he dropped his gaze instantly. Mikken was not a man of many words, but one never failed to understand the meaning behind his knowing looks.

Arya was laughing of something Myra had said, her heartily chuckles echoing through the room.

When the dished were done, Myra sat down to mend one of Mikken's old tunics by the table. Mikken sat next to her reading, and would occasionally reach over to stroke his wife's cheek or kiss her hand. Gendry felt uncomfortable witnessing their loving caresses, and gestured for Arya to follow him out.

"Myra is such a lovely woman," Arya said, grinning. "And her broth was delicious. Make sure to tell her so when you return, I have a feeling she did not quite believe me."

Gendry walked silently by her side, and his quietness did not go unnoticed.

"What's the matter?" she asked, stopping. "You did not approve of me joining you, is that it? What, are you embarrassed?"

"Of course I'm not embarrassed!" he snapped angrily.

She snorted. "Then what's wrong?"

He shrugged, sitting down on the fence of the fighting yard. "You seemed so happy in there," he stated, meeting her gray eyes. Arya frowned, sitting down next to him.

"How can one not be happy in Myra's presence?" she asked, chuckling. It was not what he had meant, but he dared not go any further on the subject. _She's a lady_, he reminded himself. _She would never want to be a smith's wife._

"It's late, you should go home,"

Arya crossed her arms stubbornly. "I am currently the oldest Stark left at Winterfell, and I go home whenever it pleases me," she said. They sat in silence for a while. He could frequently sense Arya's stare at him, but he forced himself not to look at her. Only being in her presence, knowing he could never have her was torture.

When she suddenly tugged at his sleeve and motioned for him to follow her, he obeyed, running after her across the court yard. She stopped outside the first keep, and started on the stairs to the tower. "I bet you've never been here before," she smiled, urging him on. At the top, he could see over the top of the wall's surrounding the castle, and if he stretched his neck he could vaguely see the lights from the town a little further south. Arya climbed into the window and gazed out over the landscape.

"This was Sansa and Jory's secret meeting place," she stated, giving him a little smile, but suddenly her face grew serious and as she approached him, locking his gaze in hers she whispered in a voice as sweet as honey, "Take me away from here, Gendry."

The whisper had been so low, he was not sure if he had heard her correctly. But as her hands closed around his face, and her lips slowly met his, he knew what she wanted from him. She wanted him to be her knight in shining armor and save her from the lord she never wanted to marry. As they broke apart, she looked at him with big, expecting eyes.

"We could leave tonight – no one would even know. We could go to the wall and see Jon, or we could travel to the coast and take a boat to the free cities. I'd even go to Dorne and visit Sansa. Anywhere, just take me away from here, please."

His head felt heavy and his heart was throbbing in his chest. Was she serious? His lack of response made Arya pulle away from the embrace, disappointment written across her face.

"You don't want to," she said grimly.

Gendry wanted to shout that there were nothing in the world he would rather do, but the words choked in his throat. "I-I-"he stuttered.

"Just forget I ever asked," Arya pushed him aside and started on the stairs, hiding her face in her palms. Gendry ran after her, seizing her arm.

"Don't go," he begged her, but Arya jerked her hand free and sprinted down the rest of the steps. And then she was gone. He stood in the window, watching her as she crossed the court yard and disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors. Cursing himself, he leaned toward the wall, rubbing his face with his hands. _Gendry Waters, the stupidest bastard ever born_, he thought. _You have a talent of pushing those you love away until they leave you forever._

* * *

Arya

Arya rushed up the stairs and slammed the door to her chamber shut so hard, the chandelier hanging from the roof shattered. Throwing herself on her bed, she let the tears stinging her eyes fall freely. How could she be so stupid as to ask Gendry to leave with her? At some point she had actually thought he would say yes, and when he simply stood there, gaping at her, she had felt like the biggest fool in the world.

She could hear Nymeria scratching at her door, and went to let her wolf in. burying her head in Nymeria's fur always made her feel better. She found herself wishing her father were there with them. He would have said something comforting, and promised that she never had to get married. Perhaps if she proved to him how good she was with a sword, he would allow her to become a knight. She could even be his knight! She could guard Winterfell along with Jory and the other guards. But her father was in the capital, revealing a secret no one would let her in on. And Robb had gone after him, leaving her here with a pregnant woman and a cripple. Yes, she loved Bran by all her heart, and Talla was not nearly as bad as lady Melessa, but Arya missed Jon and Sansa and even Rickon.

Nymeria gave her a kiss on her cheek, and a smile erupted on Arya's face. At least she still had her beloved wolf.

"We don't need Gendry to run away, do we Nymeria?" she scratched the wolf's ear before jumping to her feet. Gathering her most beloved possessions into a satchel, she glanced around her room to see if she had left anything behind. Her eyes instantly fell on Needle, hanging on the wall. Although it was a little small for her, it was easier to defend herself with. She would bring her silver dagger along anyway and therefore left the heavy swords in the armory.

Searching through her closet, Arya realized that Bran's old clothes would not keep her warm enough in the cold. Therefore she squinted to Rickon's room, pulling a thick woolen cloak from his closet, along with extra breeches and a warm tunic. She also stole a pair of boots, even if they were a little too big for her. She tiptoed through the corridor to prevent Bran and Talla to wake up, but in vain. Halfway down the stairs, Bran came rolling down from his room on the first floor, staring up at her.

"Where are you going?" he asked groggily. Arya ran past him without answering, knowing he would never catch her if he tried.

"Arya!" the boy called after her, but Arya was already across the yard. She ran through the kitchen, gathering a few pans and some bread into her satchel. She could not leave without provisions, both for her and her horse.

Luckily, Winterfell was empty except for a few guards guarding the main gate, leaving the hunter's gate open, and she could leave without being noticed. With Nymeria running by her side, she forced her mare into gallop and leapt through the woods, heading north. She was going to see Jon. She was free.


	12. Chapter 12

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Chapter 12

Gendry

Gendry had not slept at all that night. The only thing he had been able to think about was Arya's request. _Take me away from here, Gendry_, she had said. He remembered imagining doing the exact thing, only hours before and yet he hadn't been able to say yes. He was no knight in shining armor, nor would he ever be one. Sighing, he got to his feet, flashes of their latest kiss flickering through his head. _Make it stop_. He should have said yes. It would have been one of those romantic gestures the singers sang songs about. Why couldn't he at least pretended to be a knight, and taken her away from this life she hated? He decided he would accept her request this very day. He would seek her right now. He would go up to the castle and demand to speak to Lady Arya, and then he would sweep her off her feet and kiss her. Perhaps he was only a blacksmith, but Arya had wanted _him_ to take her away, not Dickon the lord.

But as he approached the castle, his determination faded. It was so big and glorious, hundred times bigger than the forge. The guard outside the main door looked skeptically at him. Gendry knew his face, but could not remember the man's name.

"What do you want?" the guard asked. Gendry hesitated. Was he bold enough? Would he dare to stand up to Arya's family and confess his love? Would Arya even want him to?

"I wish to see Lady Stark," he said, his voice weak like a coward's.

The guard snorted. "But does she wish to see you?"

"Please, tell her Gendry's here."

The guard looked at him, eyeing him from top to bottom. "You're the blacksmith she's been running around with," he said, his lips twisting into a little smirk. "You are too late I'm afraid. The Lady has run off in the night. The men are out looking for her as we speak."

Gendry wanted to bash the guard's head in. Couldn't he have said so sooner? He ran to the stable, ordering a horse and was on its back in a matter of seconds, leaping through the hunter's gate.

The Wolfswood seemed so big and infinite when riding alone. Usually he would have Arya by his side, complaining about her sister or brothers.

He was blaming himself for not joining her when she had asked. The woods were dangerous for a lady, even for a lady like Arya. Praying to every god he knew about that she would return to Winterfell, safe and sound, he headed for the lake – their usual spot. But she was not there, and judging by the untouched layer of snow, she never had been. He turned the mare towards the king's road while deciding whether she would go north to the wall or south to her father and brother or mother and sister. He caught a glimpse of about twenty men a horse, riding south, which made his choice simple; if they were all riding south, he had the feeling Arya would ride north, to somewhere the other's least expected her to go.

Since it hadn't been snowing for days, Gendry had believed finding her would be an easy task. He was soon proven wrong. There were no trails after her horse or her wolf, and Gendry was about to turn his borrowed horse around when he heard a wolf howl in the distance. Could it be Nymeria? He knew it was a longshot, but it was all he had. Putting his heels in the horse's side, he prayed to the gods – old and new- that no harm would come to her.

Gendry had never been very fond of riding, and had scarcely sat on a horse before he left King's Landing, so the journey through went much too slow. Arya already had a night's head start, and for all he knew, she could be on a boat to the free cities by now. But Gendry kept going, ignoring his sore behind.

* * *

Arya

She had ridden all night, and only stopped to take a piss. Nymeria was jogging besides her, showing the way. She had not yet seen anyone on the road, and did not know whether that was a good or bad thing. Her father had told her how dangerous the roads were for a girl when she had last asked to visit Jon on the wall, but she had merely scoffed. She was not afraid of anything. But as she had ridden through the snow in the darkness, taking a long detour so the guards would not find her tracks as easily, she was glad she had brought Nymeria, as the wolf would keep her safe. Yes, she had Needle and the dagger Robb had given her for her last name day, but what good were they if someone shot her with a crossbow?

When the sun stood tall in the sky, Arya finally allowed herself to rest. In her hurry to escape from Winterfell, she had forgotten to bring anything to sleep on except for a thick fur rug; however, with Nymeria by her side and her cloak draped tightly around herself, she managed to remain warm enough to fall asleep.

She awoke by Nymeria's low growling. She was tugging her cloak, urging for her to wake up. Arya jumped to her feet, looking around.

"Is there someone here?" she asked her wolf, but Nymeria leapt through the trees without a warning. Arya gathered her things together and saddled her horse in such a hurry, she almost put the saddle on the wrong way. She could hear hooves in the distance, followed by Nymeria's snarling. A man screamed in agony, and when Arya finally caught a glimpse of the intruders, she saw three men on horses. The direwolf was glaring warningly at them, baring her bloody teeth.

"Kill the beast!" one of the men said, clutching his bleeding leg. Another raised his bow, aiming at Nymeria, but before he could shoot, Arya shot out of the woods.

"Don't you dare hurt her," she yelled, pointing Needle toward him. The men exchanged looks before they burst out, laughing.

"It's a girl," one of them said. "Take her horse, and slay that beast. Let's bring the girl back to the leader. After that last bitch got herself killed, he needs a new maiden to keep him company."

The shortest man stepped down from his horse to reach for the mare's reins, but just as his feet hit the snowy ground, Nymeria went for his throat, blood staining the white snow. As the man with the crossbow aimed at Nymeria again, Arya threw her knife at him, stabbing his chest. The last man stayed at his horse and watched as his friends got murdered. She jumped down from her horse, swinging needle at him, but the man turned his horse and hurried away, shooting her one last frightened look before disappearing into the woods. Nymeria looked at her, as if to get permission, and when Arya nodded, the wolf ran after him. She heard another scream pierce through her ears and then the forest fell silent.

As she pulled her dagger from the man's chest, her stomach twisted and she had to bend over not to vomit all over herself. _She had killed a man_. She had stabbed him in cold blood, taken his life. But even though she wanted to curl into a ball on the ground and cry, wiping the blood of her dagger made her feel powerful and fearless. If she and Nymeria could defeat three armed men on their own without much effort, what else could the two of them achieve together? She was no longer Arya Stark of Winterfell, she was Arya the wolf girl.

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Gendry

He did not know for how long he had ridden, but a day had passed and the darkness was starting to blind him. _I should rest_, he thought, but knew he wouldn't be able to sleep before Arya was by his side. _I should have gone with her. This is my fault. If she dies, her blood will be on my hands._

Gendry's horse was getting tired as well, and for a while, he stepped of it and walked by its side, trying to hold a quick pace. Patting the horse's neck he realized it was probably both hungry and thirsty._ I must stop before I kill it_. Reluctantly, he paused and tied the horse up to a tree while he went to look for water. He found a small, icy pond a few hundred feet away and tried to crack through the ice with a rock, but it was too thick. He sighed when he realized he would have to make a fire and melt the snow surrounding him. If there were wildlings or outlaws around, they would be able to see the smoke and come kill him in the darkness, but that was simply a risk he had to take if he wanted to keep himself and the horse alive.

He had not brought a real weapon except for a dagger, which would work poorly against a sword, and even worse again a crossbow. He knew he should have prepared a little for his little journey, but he had never imagined that Arya had gotten this far. Although he had seen traces of a horse a while back, he did not know if it was Arya's mare that had left them. As he gathered sticks for his fire, he hoped the guards had had better luck finding her south.

He wondered if Mikken and Myra was worried about him. Myra probably was. She never bothered to hide her feelings, and if she ever felt scared or annoyed, she let them know without hesitation. She was almost like Arya when it came to that, except Arya would never admit being scared of anything.

A wolf howled again that night. Gendry could swear it seemed closer, and rose to his feet at once. If Arya had stopped for the night, this would be his best opportunity to catch up with her. He climbed onto his mount again, heading for the direction the howl had come from, but the horse was tired and walked rather slowly.

Gendry could feel the weariness creep up on him and almost fell asleep on the horse's back, when it suddenly jumped to the side, neighing loudly. Patting the horse's neck to calm it down, he saw two bodies in the snow; one of them had been bitten in throat, and stiffened blood colored him and the snow around him red. The other man's wound was harder to locate, but Gendry finally found a tear in the man's tunic and felt a wound underneath. A dagger, he decided. He searched the bodies for valuables and found himself a few coins as well as a silver blade. It was not as good as the ones he and MIkken made at Winterfell, but it would have to do. As he continued into the wood, he was sure it was Arya's work-Who else was running around with wolves?

Suddenly he heard a yell from behind, and his horse fell to the ground, an arrow poking from its chest.

* * *

Nymeria

She was running through the woods in such a speed, the trees blurred beside her. Her nose had caught a familiar scent and curious as she was, she had had to find out who the smell belonged to. She then heard screaming, yelling. The sound of steel kissing echoed through the woods, and she quickened her pace, her four legs moving silently under her. Another yell, and then she could see them. Five men, all with weapons was fighting each other. Four against one. A dark-haired man stood in the middle, defending himself with a silver blade - a small dagger. She could smell his blood before she could see it. He was wounded. Snaring, she jumped out of the shadows, sinking her teeth in whatever flesh she could find. The bleeding man limped sideways, slashing his knife across one of the attacker's stomach. He fell to the ground screaming.

She tore another's throat out, bit the third's arm off. The limping man speared the crippled man with the attacker's sword as she finished the last one. When the wildling's screams faded, the man turned to her.

"Nymeria," he said. She went to him, licking his wounded leg. She wanted to take him back, but it would be difficult as long as he was injured. His horse lay a few feet away, dead.

"Is Arya okay?" he asked, limping after her as she started into the woods. She turned, growling at him. _You have to stay here_.

"Take me to her, Nymeria," he told her. She growled again. _Stay_. The man lifted his arms defensively and dropped to the ground, sighing.

"So this is how I die, is it? Stranded in the middle of the woods without a horse, without food or water and with a hole in my thigh." She looked at him. _I'll be back._

"Take care of Arya, girl," the man said, leaning his back against a tree. "Make sure she survives this."

She ran to the dead horse, pulling a satchel from underneath it, before strutting back to the man. _I'll be back,_ she promised and took off into the woods.

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**Dundundunduuuuu. Tell me what you think! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Here's the next chapter! It's a good thing I've already written most of the story, because I'm suffering from a massive writer's block. This way the block won't affect you because I've got plenty of stuff to post. R&R**

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Chapter 13

Arya

She was covered in sweat when she woke up. What was that? Glancing around for her wolf, she realized Nymeria was gone. Old Nan had told them about stories where people entered animals in their sleep, but that was only stories right? Yet the dream had been so vivid, she could still taste the blood on her lips. And Gendry had been there. Alive, but injured. He had come after her! But it was only a dream, she reminded herself. Gendry was probably safe and sound back in Winterfell, forging another sword or one of his stupid necklaces.

But when Nymeria came leaping from the bushes, Arya instantly knew that something was wrong. The wolf growled, stopping only for a second before she turned and ran back the way she came. Arya shoved her belongings into her satchel and jumped onto the already saddled horse.

"Nymeria, wait!" she called, and the wolf reappeared in the distance, growling impatiently. "What's wrong?" she asked, even though she had a strong feeling the dream had been real.

She pushed her mare into full speed. Nymeria was already far ahead of her, but stopped frequently to show the way. _Don't die, Gendry_, she prayed. _Please don't die. _He was only wounded in the leg, but in the dream, he had been bleeding very much. If he didn't get help soon, he could bleed to death.

It felt like hours before she finally reached Nymeria, who was leaning over a hooded figure.

"Gendry!" she exclaimed, jumping off her horse. "Gendry, seven hells, are you alright?" she pulled the hood down and stared at his lifeless face. He was so cold, she was afraid he'd frozen to death.

"Gendry, c'mon stupid!" she shook him in an attempt to wake him up, but Gendry's eyes remained closed. "Wake up!" tears were stinging her eyes, blurring her vision. Nymeria sniffed on his thigh, whimpering.

"His wound," Arya stated, making the tear in his breeches even wider so she could see the cut. A spear, she reckoned. Luckily, it had only pierced halfway through.

_I have to compress the wound_. She had payed enough attention when Bran talked about his lessons with Maester Luwin to know this, and was suddenly very grateful for her brother's knowledge. She pulled a tunic out of her satchel and tied it together around his thigh.

"We need find shelter," she told Nymeria, who immediately ran off. Arya pulled off her cloak and wrapped it around Gendry. He needed all the warmth he could get.

"Don't you dare die, Gendry. As your lady I command you to live," she stroked his cold cheeks, trying to rub some color into them. When Nymeria returned, she nudged Gendry's arm under her head. Arya lifted the blacksmith's body onto the direwolf's back. He was heavy, but Arya was strong, and with Nymeria's help, they finally managed to find a way.

Grabbing her mare's reins, she followed Nymeria as hurried along; walking carefully so Gendry wouldn't slide off.

"Where are we going?" Arya asked when a hill came into sigh. She could see a range of mountains behind it, and knew instantly where they were. Bran had showed her the map of Westeros only weeks before, pointing at the different places. The mountain rage was across from the long lake, on the other side of the king's road. She couldn't believe they had ridden almost halfway to the Wall in only two days. No wonder her horse was so tired.

As she started on the mountain, Nymeria was suddenly out of sight.

"Nymeria? Nymeria!" she called, panicking. What if someone had taken her and Gendry?

But as she came to the top of the hill, she saw a small cave at the foot of the mountain. She caught a glimpse of Nymeria's tail in the entrance and ran down to reach them as quick as possible.

Gendry was still unconscious when she came back to the cave with her arms full of branches. No matter how dangerous it might be, she had to make a fire. That way it would be possible to melt the snow into water, cook food and regain Gendry's body heat. She had snuggled him up in her fur rug and dragged him as close to the fire as she thought was safe.

The cave was small and was soon warm and comfortable. She melted snow in a pan and poured it into her flask. She left something in the pan for Nymeria and when the wolf was satisfied she went outside to water her mare. "Good girl," she said, patting her neck as the horse drank happily.

She was relieved to find that Gendry's cheeks were no longer as cold, and his face was actually regaining color. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she apologies for putting him through this. Had it not been for her recklessness, they would both be back in Winterfell right now.

"Forgive me," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

She did not fall asleep that night. With Needle in her hand, she watched the fire, frequently feeding it with more sticks. Nymeria lay on Gendry's other side, her head resting on his shoulder.

"He'll be alright," she assured her wolf, smiling. "He's strong, he'll wake up."

* * *

Gendry

It was warm. He had fallen asleep in the snow, he remembered. His head had felt empty and his thigh had throbbed with pain. It still hurt, but he was warm. His throat was so dry it hurt when he swallowed. It took him a lot of effort to open his chapped lips, and even more to let out a single word.

"w-water," he whispered in a hoarse voice from lack of use. As he slowly opened his eyes, the light stung. His breath was heavy and his mind groggy.

"Water," he repeated. Someone moved next to him. He turned his head toward the noise.

"Gendry!" a voice exclaimed. He narrowed his eyes at the moving figure. Arya! She was there, she was safe. She put an arm around his head as she put a bottle to his lips. The cold water was the best thing he had ever tasted in his entire life.

"I'm so sorry!" Arya went on, her voice piercing through his ears. "Everything is my fault."

He tried to smile, but ended up grimacing. "I'm. glad. Y-you're. okay," He told her.

"Stupid," Arya said, stroking his cheek. "You almost died and you worry about me."

He looked at her, stared into her deep gray eyes. "you saved me," he breathed. He felt the dizziness return, and blacked out again.

* * *

Bran

Bran rolled into the great hall with every faced turned to him. "Lord Stark," some of them greeted. He gave them a curtly nod before he seated himself in the throne, staring down at the crowd.

"My sister has been missing for three days," he said, trying to sound as powerful and authorized as his father. "I know that many of you have been searching the woods every day, and I – and my family- appreciate your help. But as she is sourly missed, we've decided to give a thousand gold dragons to the one who can bring me my sister back alive."

The crowd muttered to each other, excited by this news.

Bran cleared his throat loudly to hush them. "The new blacksmith apprentice is gone as well," he said, looking at Myra, whose face was red and swollen from crying.

"He left to search for Lady Arya and did not return. Some say they saw him riding north. We will reward you for his safe return too. Everyone at Winterfell is important to us, and we pray that the Gods will be good and bring them both safe home to us."

Myra gave him a smile, wiping tears from her cheek. Her husband, Mikken, held her tight against him, his face hard as a rock. Bran hoped that wherever Arya and Gendry might be, they were together and safe.

* * *

Arya

Gendry slept for several days. She would have been worried had it not been for the fact that he had already woken once. While Nymeria went outside to hunt, Arya would stay by his side. Sometimes the wolf brought her catching back to the cave for them, and Arya would cook the meat. She was saving the bread for the horse, as horses did not eat other animals, and there were no grass to be found. _She must be starving_, Arya thought miserably. If they lost her mare as well, they would have to continue on foot, and with Gendry's bad leg, it would go rather slowly. Arya found herself wondering what they would do when he woke up. Would they still be heading to the wall or would they return to Winterfell, where she would have to marry Dickon Tarly?

She was startled out of her thoughts by a sudden movement on the cave floor. Looking down, she noticed Gendry was awake and was trying to get up on his elbow.

"Wait, you should rest," she insisted, pushing him back down. Gendry frowned and pushed her hand gently away.

"What have I been doing for gods know how long?" he asked dryly. She sighed but did not object anymore. _He must be starving_, she thought and fished a piece of meat out of the pan above the fire.

"How long have I been out?" he asked. She was surprised by how strong he suddenly seemed. _The rest must have given him his strength back. _

"Almost four days," she said.

He scoffed. "No wonder I am so bloody hungry." The piece of meat was gone almost at once. Arya threw some more snow into the pan before feeling his forehead.

"Your fever's gone. Finally!"

Gendry smiled. "It takes more than a spear to kill Gendry Waters."

Rolling her eyes, Arya punched his shoulder lightly. "stupid," she chuckled. "How does your thigh feel?"

He put his hand around his leg, and removed the bloody tunic. "It hurts," he said. "But at least it looks good. What did you do whit it?"

Arya shrugged. "I only cleaned it with ice water. It's a wonder you haven't got some sort of infection."

"You did good, Arya. Thanks."

Arya bit her lip, guilt rushing over her again. "I would never have forgiven myself if you died, you know."

She looked at him, drowning in his piercing blue eyes.

"Arya-"he started, but she cut him off.

"I'm sorry I ran away. I never thought you'd follow, though."

Gendry pulled himself closer to her, taking her hand in his. "Of course I'd follow."

Arya sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, their faces only inches apart. "I won't do it again," she promised. He smiled and pulled her into a tight hug.

"The next time I'll come with you."

* * *

Gendry

The first time he tried to walk on his leg, Gendry had fallen to the ground, crushing the good leg under his weight. Cursing, he got back to his feet. Arya supported him, and after some practicing, he managed to limp across the cave floor.

"You're not strong enough to leave yet, though," Arya told him.

"We'll ride. Don't worry, I'll manage."

Arya pushed a strain of hair behind her ear, looking at him with a skeptical look. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Arya, I'm fine." He said. But just as he uttered the words, he stumbled and fell to the ground again.

She crouched down beside him, steadying him as he got to his feet. "Liar," she said, smiling.

"Where do we go from here anyway?" he asked, ignoring her japing. He knew that if they returned to Winterfell, Arya would be married to Dickon Tarly, but The Wall was no place for a girl. Not even a girl like Arya. He remembered all of the thieves and rapists he had traveled with on his way to Winterfell, and shuddered. It was too dangerous.

Arya hesitated. "I really want to see Jon," she said. Gendry nodded. He had expected that. Whenever she talked of her brother, her lips would twist into a wide smile. There were no doubt he was her favorite.

"You know the wall is dangerous, right?" he asked her. "Most of those who takes the black is forced into it; few of them are as honorable as your brother. They are thieves and rapists, Arya. They'll fuck you bloody if they get the chance."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "I'm not scared of them!"

"Then you're stupid!" he replied. She gave him a challenging look before she picked a dagger up from beside the fire.

"Then I guess I'll have to be someone else while I'm there," she said. He stared as she pulled her braid from behind her back and cut if off by her neck.

He gasped. "What are you-"

"From the moment we arrive at the Wall, I'm Arry, ok?"

Gendry shook his head in disbelief. As the short hair danced around her face, she actually reminded him of a boy. Her skinny figure and large clothes did definitely work in her advantage.

"What do we say to them anyway? Are the knights even allowed to have visitors?"

Arya hesitated. "We'll send Nymeria in with a note for Jon. I'm sure he'll find a way."

"Perhaps I ought to join them," Gendry said, thoughtfully. Arya shot him a sharp look.

"You don't mean that, do you?" she asked.

Gendry shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I belong anywhere else. Even bastards can dare to be ambitious on the wall."

Arya crossed her arms. "You're being stupid. Why would you want to join them? Do you want to live in celibacy for the rest of your life?"

Gendry sniggered. "So that's what worries you, eh?"

Arya punched him in the shoulder, making him laugh even harder. "I'm just saying…" she said through clenched teeth. Gendry took her hand in his. As she looked up at him, her gray eyes meeting his blue, he felt his stomach twist. He really did love this girl, even now, when she resembled a boy.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Arya

They stayed in the cave for two more days before they finally continued toward the Wall. As the mare was not very big, Arya decided it would be best if only Gendry sat on her back. Of course, he had refused, and even offered to walk in her place.

"Will you shut up? Just because I'm a girl does not mean I cannot walk. I've got legs you know."

In the end, Arya had managed to convince him, with a little help from Nymeria who had growled angrily at him.

"Then we should both ride. You'll wear yourself out if you walk the whole way," he insisted.

"The horse hasn't eaten properly in days. She's just as weak as you are. We must not push her too hard."

Gendry scoffed. "You're light as a feather, she won't notice whether you're on her or not!"

Arya gave him a stubborn look. "I'm walking, that's the end of that!" she said, crossing her arms. Gendry sighed and mounted the horse.

"You remind me of your mother when you talk like that."

She groaned and led the horse forwards. He had told her how he was attacked by wildlings and how Nymeria had come out from nowhere and saved his life – exactly like her dream. However, she did not tell him she was there that night. How could she expect him to understand something so completely insane?

"How far do you think it is left?" he asked after a while, breaking the silence. Arya looked around. They were walking by the Long Lake, and was about to return to the King's Road, which would be the easiest road to walk, even if it were more dangerous.

"We're half-ways she replied. "I reckon we will be there in a week or so."

He scoffed. "And you intending to walk the whole way?"

"Yes."

"You'll get tired."

"No I won't."

"I can walk," he tried, but Arya simply shook her head.

"No you can't you liar. Listen, I'm okay, honestly. Perhaps we'll even find a new horse on the road." He sighed, but didn't argue anymore. Her father had always said she had gotten the stubbornness from her mother. And that her taste for adventures came from her aunt, Lyanna. Some said they even looked the same.

They didn't meet very many people. It was not much traffic between the Wall and Winterfell, except for those who traveled from the village outside of the Wall. However, Arya would sometimes see someone familiar from home, and she forced the horse into the woods to hide until they had passed. She was sure her family had ordered them to bring them home no matter what. She suddenly felt bad for leaving them like that. She loved them, she really did, but they never really understood her. Not like Jon had.

"I think you'll really like him. Jon." she told Gendry. "Since you're both bastards and everything." She gave him a japing smile.

Gendry scoffed. "I can assure you not all bastards are as nice as I am."

"You? Nice?" she asked, winking.

"Shut up."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure Nymeria will return with something soon. But if she doesn't I'll might as well kill a squirrel myself," Arya said, pulling the dagger out of its shaft.

Gendry frowned. "Are _you_ going to kill a squirrel?"

"I can be quick," she reminded him. Suddenly, a noise made her turn around. "Did you hear that?"

Gendry shook his head. "It's probably nothing, Arya. No one will attack us on the middle of the day. Not this close to the king's road."

But Arya held her dagger in her hand, glancing over her shoulder. "Let's speed up," she said.

They journeyed for hours. Most of the time they kept quiet, looking around for dangers, but other times they would talk and talk about everything. Although she thought she had known Gendry well enough, he had never told her about his mother. Not until now anyway.

"To be honest, I can't remember what she looked like except that she had yellow hair. She used to sing when cooking, and always kissed my forehead before tucking me in. We were poor, and she usually worked at the alehouse all night. I would usually come with her, and then I would play with the owner's children." He paused, glancing down at Arya. "Sometimes she would bring a man home –the same man every time. She would tell me to go outside and play for a while, and whenever the man left, she would bring me to the market and buy something sweet for me."

Arya bit her lip. She didn't know what to say to console him.

"I didn't understand why before after she died. Perhaps it was better that way," his voice was bitter with grieve. Arya tried to imagine how it would be like growing up without parents, but found it impossible.

"Then Tobho took me in. he didn't have a son of his own – only daughters much older than me. I guess he hoped I would marry one of them someday so the forge would stay within the family."

Arya nodded. "Did you want to?"

"What?"

"Marry any of them?"

Gendry snorted, shrugging. "I don't know," he said. "I mean, they were wonderful girls, all three of them, but they were never more than sisters to me, you know? Besides, they were almost twice my age."

That night they stopped in the middle of the forest, not finding anywhere better to rest. Nymeria came jogging after them, a rabbit dangling from her mouth, but Arya did not risk making a fire and they ate it raw before falling asleep, side by side with their heads leaning against each other.

* * *

Bran

"There is no sign of your sister or the blacksmith, my lord," a guard named Byler told him, bowing. Bran rubbed his temples and rolled his chair to the table where the maps lay.

"Have you looked everywhere?" he asked, knowing perfectly well they had.

Byler looked at his feet. "I'm truly sorry my lord, but if they had been anywhere near the King's road, my men would have found them by now."

"Perhaps they are not on the road. They could have left it; they could be in the woods!" Bran pointed out hopefully. "Perhaps they found shelter somewhere."

The guard nodded. "My men and I will return to the woods if it pleases you, my lord."

"Good, you may leave. Maester Luwin?"

The old man stepped out of the corner he had been standing in. as he approached him, Bran noticed how the maester was limping.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked. The maester nodded reassuringly.

"Make sure Mikken and his wife are informed of the latest update. I also wish to search for Arya myself – tell the stable master to have a horse ready for me."

Maester Luwin bowed and limped out of the room, leaving Bran alone with his maps. Trailing his fingers across the fur, Bran closed his eyes. _Arya, where are you? I pray to the old gods and the new that you will return to us, safe and unharmed. _

He startled by the sound of steps. "Bran, have they found them yet?"

Bran turned and saw Talla in the doorway, her hands stroking her swollen belly, her eyes gleaming with tears.

"I'm afraid not," he replied quietly. Talla sighed loudly and seated herself next to him.

"They'll return one day, you'll see."

But her words meant nothing to him. How could she know? She was only human. Only the gods knew if Arya and Gendry were even still alive.

* * *

Gendry

They had been riding for four days when Arya's mare finally ducked under. Gendry was impressed by how long she had survived; she had been under his weight and pushed to her limits day after day.

"We should eat her," Arya suddenly said and pulled her dagger out of her pocket. Gendry looked at her.

"Eat her? She's your horse!"

Arya scoffed. "She's dead. She won't do any good but feed us now. It's been days since we had a proper meal. I say we roast the meat today, no matter how dangerous starting a fire might be, and then we'll have food for the rest of the journey."

Gendry looked back at the lifeless horse beside them. He knew she was right; Arya usually was.

"How's your leg?" Arya asked, her dagger buried in the mare's stomach.

Gendry shrugged, helping her flay the horse. "It's much better. I'm sure I can start walking tomorrow."

She narrowed her eyes at him and reached out to pull his breeches down.

"Hey-"

"Don't be so bloody modest, Gendry. I have to look at the wound, and I can't do that if you are all covered up now, can I?"

Gendry snorted. "I looked at it just this morning. It looks fine."

"Liar," she spat. "You're only scared I'll see your cock, aren't you?"

"I am not! Besides, a lady shouldn't use such language."

Arya hissed. "How many times must I tell you, I am _not_ a lady!" when he sniggered, she punched his shoulder so violently, he lost his balance.

"Come on, show me the wound. I bet you don't even know how an infected wound looks like!"

"Of course I do. Being a blacksmith is not completely harmless you know. I've had lots of wounds."

Arya rolled her eyes and continued flaying the skin off of the horse. "Bloody craven," she muttered.

Gendry groaned. "You really want to see my thigh so bad? Well, here you go then- I'm no bloody craven." He stood up, leaning on his good leg, and pulled his breeches down to his knees. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she started laughing.

"What so funny?" he asked, staring down at his undergarment, but Arya only shook her head and shrugged.

"It looks stupid is all," she told him, her laugh echoing through the woods.

Gendry frowned and started to pull his breeches back on, but Arya stopped him.

"Wait, you didn't even let me look at the scar."

He waited impatiently as she stroke her fingers over the thick, red line on the middle of his thigh. Her touch gave him goose bumps and sent shivers down his spine. She looked up at him, her big, gray eyes meeting his.

"It looks good," she said in a thick voice, backing away from him. Gendry cleared his throat and pulled his breeches back up.

"So we can continue to the wall in the morrow?"

She nodded, returning to the flaying. "If you think you can handle it."

Gendry scoffed and sat down next to her, watching as her arms moved over the dead horse. She looked beautiful, even now; with dirt on her face, her breeches worn thin and her tunic stained with horse blood. Her tangled hair stuck out around her face, caressing her cheeks as she moved. When she noticed he was watching, she turned and met his gaze.

"What?" she asked annoyed.

Gendry smiled. "Has anyone told you how pretty you are?"

Arya screwed her face up and gave him a suspicious look. "What's the matter with you? It's the cold, isn't it? You are acting stupider than usual."

But Gendry shook his head and cupped her chin with his hand.

"Gendry, what are you-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he pulled her close and let his lips touch hers. It seemed as if she wanted to break free at first, but then she relaxed in his arms, meeting his kiss just as passionately. Her bloody hands tangled in his hair, she opened for his tongue. Although it was cold outside, her skin was warm and soft to his touch. He let his fingers stroke her cheek, her neck, followed by his lips. She moaned and tightened her grip around him, her kisses growing hungrier. He did not know for how long they had been kissing when her hand slid down his back.

"Wait, Arya," he panted, pulling away. "We shouldn't."

She broke free from his embrace, staring at him. "What do you mean?" she asked, sounding slightly hurt. He stood up and crossed his arms.

"We shouldn't let it go that far. You're a lady of Winterfell whilst I am only a blacksmith."

Arya scoffed and clenched her fist around a dagger. "I'm growing tired of that speech, Gendry. How many times must I tell you I simply do not care about that?"

"Perhaps you will care. Someday."

Arya froze and glared at him. "Is that what you think? That someday I will magically decide that after all, Sansa's life is the right life for me? If that truly is how you feel, why did you even bother kissing me just now?"

Gendry shrugged, his back leaned against a tree. "I don't know."

Arya stabbed the knife into the horse and got up to her feet. "Well then you bloody well better figure it out!"

He watched as she stomped away. Her skinny figure moving violently through the snow. He could not tell her what had made him kiss her again. The words would only scare her. The words he had been holding in since the day he had met her. _I love you_, he thought, slamming his head toward the tree he was seated against, making a loud thump.


	15. Chapter 15

I decided to post two chapters today because you are awesome and deserve it. Now, I know the story took another turn than many of you anticipated, but I hope you're not too disappointed.

* * *

Chapter 15

Arya

Although Gendry insisted he managed to walk perfectly fine on his leg, it was a long journey and his limping was slowing them down. Arya tried to be patient with him, but found herself urging him on every now and then. She was starting to get sick of traveling; she wanted to see a castle again, to sleep in a warm bed and eat proper food. But most of all, she couldn't wait to see Jon again.

They kept going on the king's road as the terrain was much easier for Gendry to walk through. She knew he was putting all his effort into keeping up with her pace, but still she thought they were going too slow.

Whenever someone rode past them, she would hide her face under her hood, even though it wasn't necessary. No one was looking for a man in dirty garments, but a lady of Winterfell with long, brown hair. Sometimes a rider would stop and ask if they had seen a maid of six-and-ten with dark hair and gray eyes. "Usually dressed in boy's clothes," some of they would add with a sad smile on their face. Arya recognized most of the riders, and held her breath while looking at Gendry, waiting for his reply. Would he deceive her? Was he too missing the warm forge?

But everytime, Gendry shook his head, his teeth clenched. She could see that something was bothering him, and when finally alone she would ask him, but he would only shrug. Since their kiss, he had been awfully chilly toward her. She, on the other hand, had decided to act as if the kiss had never happened and it would have worked perfectly fine if she could only stop thinking about it. The memory kept playing over and over in her head every time she looked at the blacksmith beside her.

"No one is asking for a smith with black hair," he stated when the fifth rider asking for Arya disappeared back to Winterfell. Arya looked at him. So that was why he was in such a foul mood?

"They probably know we're together," she said in a poor attempt to cheer him up. Gendry wrinkled his eyebrows and shot her a skeptical look. "Why does it bother you so much anyway? I'm sure Myra and Mikken –"

He cut her off, his voice sharp and bitter. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right! I don't understand why you always have to be so damn secretive. You keep sulking but you never care to share what's on your mind. If this is yet again about you being a bastard I've got three words for you: GET OVER IT!" she smacked him on the ears, hard enough for a groan to escape his lips.

Clutching his reddening ear, he glared at her. "What the-"

"Perhaps that will teach you to stop sulking! It's annoying me."

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. He looked so taken aback that she actually felt sorry for hitting him- As if he hadn't been injured enough already because of her. Ahe sighed and took a few steps closer to him, stroking his ear with gentle fingers.

"I'm sorry, Gendry," she said and gave him a little smile. "I just want you to understand that origins do not define a person unless you let it define you. Bastard or not, my brother is the greatest man I've ever known. And you-"her voice trailed off as her cheeks flush. Gendry looked at her with his piercing blue eyes.

"And I?" he asked expectantly, an amused expression on his face. Arya bit her lip and let her little arms slid around him, wrapping them around his waist.

"You're great," she whispered. He was so tall she had to stand on tiptoe for their heads to be somewhat on the same height. She moved one of her hands behind his neck and forced his head down to hers. "And now I order you to kiss me."

"As my lady commands," he said and for once, he did as he told. As their lips met, Arya felt a rush of adrenalin pump through her blood. His beard stumps tickled her lip as his hand found its way to her bristle hair. Suddenly, they heard hooves from behind, and as they jerked apart, two men rode past them, shooting them nasty looks of repulsion.

"Cocksuckers," one of them muttered and spat toward them. Arya looked after them, shocked. Then she remembered that she was Arry now, and Gendry looked more man than he had ever done with his new beard. Although he tried shaving it off any other day, it returned quickly. Although it had bothered her slightly in the beginning, Arya decided she liked the tickling sensation she got when kissing him.

"Perhaps we ought to keep going," Gendry said, stroking her upper lip with his thumb. Arya nodded and smiled, wondering when they next would get the opportunity to share a kiss so passionately it made her knees go weak.

* * *

Jon

Jon paced across the floor of his quarters, scratching his beard. He had received a raven from Bran with disturbing news, and he wondered what his next step would be. His brother had told him Arya and a bastard blacksmith had fled Winterfell, and was most likely headed for the Wall. _I should send men after them_, Jon thought and sank down in a chair by the large wooden desk. Although Castle black was no place for a young maid, Arya was not like Sansa. Yes, it had been years since he had seen his youngest sister, but Jon doubted she had changed much since then. She was probably just as skinny and fierce as she had been when little. He found himself missing his siblings again after all this time. He missed Robb's playful japes and Sansa's singing. He missed Bran's sensibility and Rickon's rebellious nature. But most of all he missed Arya's constantly following him, begging him for a rematch in the training yard. Perhaps she could come, if only for a few nights. He was the lord commander now after all, it was up to him. He could feed her and make sure she was warm and had a nice bed to sleep in. she would like that after traveling for several weeks. He suddenly wished Samwell were still at Castle Black to give him advice, but Jon had been the one to send his fat friend away. For his own good, of course, but he had known the road would be dangerous and had – to his horror- receive much too little information about Sam and his companions' whereabouts.

"Excuse me, lord commander? You called." a voice said from the door. Jon turned and saw his steward eye him with big, green eyes.

"Luke, there you are. I wish to send all the men we can spare to search for my sister and her friend. Search the woods and the mountains, and do not return until you have found her, is that understood?"

Luke startled. "Y-your sister, my lord?"

"My sister, yes. She's a maid of six-and-ten, brown hair, gray eyes. A skinny little girl, most likely dressed in boy's clothing. It is said she is traveling with a young man, big-built, black-hair – a smith. Oh, and also a direwolf."

The young boy nodded, bowed and disappeared. Jon frowned after him. The boy was somewhat new to the watch, and was not at all suitable to be a ranger. However, his mind was quick and sensible- much like Bran's and Sam's, and Jon found he could have use for a well-witted person nearby.

When alone, he found a piece of paper and wrote a reply to Bran.

_Bran. I'll have my men look for them. If I find them, they are welcome to regain their strength at Castle Black, but only for a few days I'm afraid- winter is coming. Jon. _

The raven flew into the night with the note tied to its leg. Jon watched as it soared over the castle and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Gendry

They had found shelter beneath a truncated branch that would shield them from the worst cold as well as conceal the pair of them. Gendry wrapped his cloak around them both to make better use of the warth. Usually, Arya would lay with her back to him, but tonight she snuggled up toward his chest and sighed loudly.

"How much further do you think it is?" she asked. "I thought we would have been there by now."

Gendry shrugged and pulled her closer. "I'm the one slowing us down. You would have reached the Wall days ago had you traveled alone."

"True, but what's the fun in that, eh?" she smiled up at him and kissed his nose softly. "I'm really glad you came after me, Gendry. I know you were only planning on bringing me back home, but I'm grateful you decided to come."

Gendry stroke her tangled her out of her eyes. "You gave us all such a fright, staying home was never an option."

"Do you think father knows about my escape?"

"I don't know. Bran would have sent a raven, wouldn't he? And your lady mother has probably returned to Winterfell by now."

"Good, then at least Talla will have a woman there when she gives birth."

They lay in silence for a while. Gendry was thinking about the forge at Winterfell, and the good food Myra used to make. And Mikken's quiet being. He wondered if they even noticed his absence.

"Do you think Sansa is happy? You know, being a lady and all?" Arya suddenly asked.

"I don't know your sister, Arya. But if she, unlike you, wished to become a lady, then I believe she's happy, yes."

Arya shook her head. "I don't. She was in love with Jory, but then she had to end it with him. when she left, her heart was broken. How can she be happy with a broken heart?"

"Perhaps Edric Dayne mended it for her."

Silence crept up on them again. They could hear Nymeria walk restlessly around them, her ears on alert.

"Gendry?" Arya asked.

"Mhm?"

"Why do you like me?" when he started chuckling, she hit his shoulder hard and stared at him with her gray, serious eyes. "Don't laugh. I mean it."

Gendry hesitated. Where would he begin? "I like you because you're not like any other girl I have ever met," he finally replied earnestly. Arya bit her lip skeptically.

"But I'm not a lady," she said. "Sansa once told me that I would never find a husband if I continued to act like a boy, because no man wanted a woman like that unless-"

Gendry snorted. "Unless they fancy other men, you mean?"

She nodded, her hair tickling his nose as she did.

"You think too much, Arya. You might not be a lady, but you are definitely not a boy! Have you even looked at yourself in the looking glass?"

She smiled then, choking back a snigger. "All I can see is a skinny girl with a long face."

Gendry stroke her cheek gently, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Arya Stark, you truly are the most oblivious girl I have ever met."

They continued their journey before the break of dawn the next day, chewing on dried horse meat. Although it was not nearly as good as a warm meal, it was a lot better than eating bugs which Arya had suggested when their hunger had been at its worst. Luckily, she had found the taste of a caterpillar so foul, she had not been able to eat anymore and agreed on making a fire against their better judgments.

Nymeria had gone into the woods again and did only return from time to time to see if they were still following her.

"She loves it out here," Arya said as they watched the large wolf leap through the snowy trees. But suddenly, the wolf made a loud growling sound, and ran back to them, her teeth bare.

"What's wrong, Nymeria?" Arya asked. The wolf circled around them and started to run away from the road, but too late. Three riders all dressed in black came galloping toward them. Arya looked at Gendry with terror in her eyes, and Gendry felt his heart pound faster. As the men drew nearer, he could see that they were not wildlings. Perhaps they were from the village nearby?

"They've spotted us," Arya said. "It's too late to run now. If we do, they'll slay us down."

Gendry had thought the same thing. They would never be able to outrun horses, let alone on his leg.

"Look, they're dressed in black. Perhaps they are from the night's watch," he suggested. Arya's eyes widened with hope, and she did no longer look as frightened. However, he could see her left hand drawn around the skinny sword by her side.

"Who's walking here?" one of the men asked when they were close enough to hear. Arya cleared her throat, glancing nervously at him.

"I'm Lommy and this is my brother, Arry," Gendry lied quickly. The name was of one of his fellow companions who were headed for the Wall and was the first that had come to him. the men exchanged looks and started chuckling.

"I know you," one of them said, climbing down from his horse. "You were Yoren's pet. You traveled with us from King's landing."

Gendry looked at Arya. If they were from the watch, should they be relieved or scared?

"You're a deserter," another man said. They were all on the ground now, closing in around them. Gendry shook his head desperately.

"No," Gendry insisted. "I never said the words. I've never been a man of the watch."

The man grabbed his chin and pulled him closer. "Vow or no Vow. We need all the men we can get, yet still you escaped."

"Leave him be," Arya snapped through clenched teeth. She had her sword in one hand and her dagger in the other, staring at them with hatred in her eyes. Behind her, Nymeria was growling dangerously.

"Is that a…" the man backed away, staring at the wolf. "This is no boy! It's the lord commander's sister, she is."

Gendry looked at Arya. _The lord commander_? But Arya seemed just as confused.

"I'm not a girl," she said half-heartedly, but the men were not fooled.

"We have orders to bring the pair of you to Castle Black. Put down your blade, my lady, you will not have need of that in our company."

Arya frowned at him but did as she was told. Castle black had, after all, been their destination all along. "Who ordered you to bring us back to castle black?" she asked, her voice stern and confident -A lady's voice.

"The lord commander. Your brother. _Lord snow_."


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks for your reviews, guys, it means a lot! I always find it fun to interact with my readers, so if you want to you can add me on tumblr and send me a message, and I will follow you back! **

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Chapter 16

Gendry

They were placed behind two of the knight's horses. Arya looked somewhat furious about having to share with a man and not being allowed to ride alone. Gendry on the other hand was too relieved to finally remove all pressure from his injured leg and did not mind. They had been walking for days, and his strength had been completely drained from his body. The only thing that had kept him going was Arya's promise that they would soon see their destination, but her words had been just as empty as his stomach.

They did not reach the castle before darkness surrounded them, and Gendry was close to sleep where he sat behind the youngest ranger.

"Wake up, _Lommy_, we're here. You are to be taken to the lord commander at once."

Gendry forced his eyes open, but as he was about to climb down from his horse he lost his balance and fell to the ground. His wounded leg twisted around in the fall, and Gendry cried out in pain.

"Careful, stupid, he's wounded," Arya yelled to the ranger from her horse and jumped down next to him. "Gendry, can you walk?"

He nodded quietly, and with her help he managed to get back on his feet. The knight's escorted them into the dark castle, through a corridor and up several stairs. Arya remained by his side the whole way, carrying most of his weight on her shoulders. He was yet again hit my how strong she was, but was too tired to tell her so. When they finally stopped, one of the rangers knocked on a door and entered.

"Yes?" a voice said from inside.

"We have your sister."

Someone crossed a floor in hurried steps and the door opened even wider. Gendry looked up to see a lean figure in the doorway, staring at them. His dark-almost black- hair stood up from his head and danced as the man approached them.

"Arya," he finally said, his voice stern but filled with affection. The man embraced her sister so violently, Gendry was knocked away. He watched as Arya was lifted up into the man's arms, a wide smile on her lips.

"Jon," she sighed and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. "I've missed you so."

They embraced for what felt like hours before they finally broke free. "You may leave," Jon told the rangers. "Follow me." He led them through the door and closed it behind them. "Sit."

Arya helped Gendry to the nearest chair and sat down next to him.

"He's injured," Jon stated, staring at Gendry's bloody breeches.

Arya nodded. "A wildling spear," she said quietly. "He needs a maester as quickly as possible."

"Of course," Jon nodded. "And he will have one as soon as I am done with you."

The lord commander seated himself behind a large wooden desk and folded his hands. He looked from Arya to Gendry and back to Arya again, his eyes serious.

"Jon-"Arya started, but her brother lifted a hand to silence her.

"Bran's worried out of his mind. He sent me raven after raven asking if I had seen you. Unfortunately, I did not send out men to look for you until yesterday. I believed you had gone south to see father." He stopped and took a deep breath. "What you did-"

Arya jumped to her feet and paced across the floor, rolling her eyes. "Was irresponsible and childish. I know what you are going to say, Jon, and you can save it. I did not come here to be reprimanded. I came to see you."

Jon scratched his beard and sighed. "Why did you do it, Arya? Are you aware of the dangers you put yourself in? The dangers you put your new friend here in?"

"They want me to get married, Jon." Arya said, her fists clenched by her side. "They want me to marry Dickon Tarly. It doesn't matter what I say, they refuse to listen to me."

"Perhaps you ought to get married and put an end to all these adventures of yours," Jon said sharply, making Arya back away from him.

"Jon-"she looked at him, her eyes gleaming of hurt and betrayal. "I thought you would understand."

The man rubbed his temples and motioned for her to sit back down. "I do, Arya, I really do, but that doesn't justify what you did. You could have gotten yourself killed."

"I would rather die than marry that man," Arya said, crossing her arms. Jon shot her a dark look.

"Don't say that," he told her.

"It's the truth."

Jon glances over at Gendry and pursed his lips. "And the blacksmith? What's his part in this runaway?"

Arya met Gendry's gaze and gave him a reassuring smile. "He came to bring me home, but I persuaded him to join me instead."

Gendry snorted under his breath. What choice had he had with an injured leg? He would never have made it through the woods on his own, but then again, he would have followed her even if his leg had been completely healthy.

"I bet you did." A small smile erupted on Jon's serious face, making him seem much less intimidating. "It's good to see you little sister."

Arya smiled back. "So you're a lord commander now? That's impressive!"

"May I speak with your friend alone, Arya? I'll have my steward escort you to the maester."

Arya shot Gendry a skeptical look, but nodded and disappeared through the door after Jon. When Jon returned, he placed himself only inches from where Gendry was seated. Gendry met his eyes, trying to remain calm. He was much bigger than Jon, and had his leg not been hurt, he could easily have knocked him to the ground. He had no reason to me intimidated by this man.

"If I find out you have placed a bastard inside my sister, I will have your head for it," Jon said through clenched teeth. Gendry struggled to his feet and stood half a head taller than Jon, giving him courage to smile reassuringly.

"Don't worry, lord commander. As far as I'm concerned, your sister's still a maid."

Jon nodded and backed away to let Gendry pass. "Good, good," he muttered. Gendry was halfway through the door when Jon coughed.

"Thanks for looking after her," Jon said. "She might seem tough, but she's only a girl."

Gendry nodded and forced a smile. "I'd die for her," he said. "I almost did."

Jon looked down at Gendry's leg and chuckled. "Then we better get you patched up and ready to escort her safely back to Winterfell. I'll have Luke help you down to the maester."

Gendry limped after the man while deciding that Jon and Arya was definitely the two who resembled each other the most among the Stark children. Both in appearance and personality.

* * *

Arya

The maester was clensing a small cut on Arya's left arm when Gendry came limping through the door. When the old man noticed the state of her companion, he wrapped a piece of cloth around Arya's arm and tended Gendry's leg immediately. Arya watched as they cut his breeches open, and was taken aback by the nasty color of green and yellow the wound had turned throughout the day. Surely it had not looked that bad the day before! The maester called for two more men to hold Gendry down while he cleaned the wound and cut away the infected flesh. Gendry was offered a bottle of wine, and he drank hungrily. By the time the maester brought his knife out, Gendry had emptied his first bottle.

"Bite on this," the old man told him and handed Gendry a stained cloth. Gendry obeyed, and as the maester started flaying his wound, the blacksmith squirmed in pain, but no sound escaped his lips. The two men struggled to hold him down, and Arya jumped to her feet to help.

"Gendry, look at me," she commanded him. His eyes flickered toward her, but then the maester cut another piece of flesh away, and Gendry's face wrenched in pain.

"Look at me," she repeated. "Gendry, look at me. It's okay. Just relax. Here, you can squeeze my hand if you'd like." She placed her hand against his just as he wriggled on the table, sweat running down his face. His fingers grasped around her hand so tightly she gasped, but did not pull away. She stroke his face sympathetically, wiping most of the sweat away with a rag. Gendry groaned tiredly before his eyes locked on her. She continued stroking his face, his hair, his hand until his breathing decreased and his chest rose and sank steadily.

"You did great," she told him. Gendry forced a smile, obviously putting a brave face on. Although the worst pain was done, the maester still had to cleanse his wound with alcohol. Arya could only imagine how much it hurt, but Gendry lay perfectly still, staring at her.

She stayed by his side until the maester was done bandaging him. The wine made him fall asleep from time to time, but he always woke up with a startle.

"Arya," he would whisper, and then the sleep would overpower him again.

"I'm here," she assured him, running her fingers through his tangled hair. "go to sleep, Gendry. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

He did not black out before the maester gave him a sleeping potion. She wanted to follow when the two men carried him to the chamber he would be staying in, but the old man stopped her.

"I believe I never finished cleansing your cuts, my lady," he said politely. Arya sat down reluctantly, staring after Gendry as the men carried him away.

"He will be sleeping for the rest of the day, my lady. He will not even notice your absence. Now, I know you are aware of your current location and what danger it is for a young maid as yourself at a place like this. Therefore I would suggest you keep wearing men's clothing and have the others call you by a different name."

Arya did not understand at first. Jon was the lord commander. She did not have to hide while she was here. Her brother would protect her!

"Not all of my brothers are as honorable as your brother, my lady. A woman is a rare sight on the Wall; they might exploit the opportunity."

Arya just looked at him. She was so tired she struggled to keep her eyes open. Exploit what opportunity? The old maester sighed by her lack of understanding.

"You could get raped, my lady."

Arya snorted and shook her head. "No. Anyone stupid enough to rape me would walk away a eunuch."

She did not know how long she had slept, but when her eyes finally opened she was staring up at a dark ceiling. Turning, she noticed a man lying on the bed next to hers. When her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she saw other beds too, but all were empty. It was not a large room and she was surprised that so many beds could even fit. She looked over at the man again. He slept peacefully with his mouth open and a straw of hair dancing over his face by every breath he released. Arya sat down next to him, stroking the hair away. Gendry rubbed his cheek unconsciously from her touch and turned in his bed. She stood up and tucked the covers tighter around him. Her clothing was neatly folded by the foot of her bed, and she put them on quickly. Her stomach was growling with hunger, and as she tried to find her way to some sort of kitchen, she bumped into one of the rangers that had found them in the woods.

"My lady," he said in a hushed voice. "I mean Arry. The lord commander told us not to reveal your identity and nor have I. How is your friend? Still asleep? One would think you'd both wake up after three days."

Arya gasped. "Have I been sleeping for three days?"

The man nodded. "Lord Snow's been checking up on you frequently. Even though the maester told him you were both perfectly fine, he could not sleep."

She was about to answer when her stomach gave another loud howl, and she hurried to put her hands over it. The man looked knowingly at her. "You must be hungry. Let me escort you to the kitchen."

They walked through another corridor and down a pair of stairs before the man – called Pyp- led her into a small kitchen. It smelled deliciously of fried eggs and bacon. Pyp exchanged a few words with one of the cooks who looked suspiciously at her.

"Now lad, come here and help yourself to some eggs," he told her in a husky voice. Arya obeyed and threw herself over the best food she had ever tasted. Or at least that was what it felt like. It seemed as if her hunger never stopped, and the man's eyes grew sharper and more hostile. When she asked for a fourth portion, the cook shook his head and crossed his arms.

"Times are hard, young man. I have already given you double of what is allowed. There are other mouths to feed here as well."

Arya nodded and pushed the plate away. Perhaps it was for the best. Gulping down the rest of the wine, she asked politely if she could bring some food to her friend who was too weak to come down and get some. The man scowled at her, but put a spoonful of eggs onto a plate and handed it to her. She snatched a flask of wine from behind his back and thanked for his hospitality.

When she returned, Gendry was still fast asleep. He had kicked his covers off and used them as a pillow instead. She smiled by the sight and put the plate with food down on a table between their beds. Perhaps the smell of food would wake him up. She wanted to stay by his side when he woke up, but she had too many questions and knew only Jon had the answers. At least Gendry did not need to limp around the castle, starving.

She found Jon in the lord commander's tower. He sat with his arms crossed in the large chair behind the wooden desk, but smiled when she entered.

"You look so different," he stated, standing up. Arya crossed the floor and gave him a hug, taking in everything about him; his height, his width, his scent. "a woman grown," he sighed, pulling away.

"Look at yourself," she told him, brushing her fingers over his beard.

Jon gave her a smile and seated himself on the desk. "I sent a letter to Bran telling him you are here," he said. Arya's look darkened.

"I didn't want you to do that," she said through clenched teeth.

"I know you didn't, but I did it anyway."

Arya crossed her arms. "We'll run again, you know."

"No you won't, and if you do, I will have my men hunt you down and bring you back. I had a talk with the maester. He said your friend would have lost his leg had he not been treated when he were. There is a risk he'll always limp, though."

Arya bit her lip. Gendry could have lost the use of his leg. He could have been a cripple like Bran, only because of her.

"I hope you realized what a folly your escape was. You're not a child anymore, Arya. Behavior like this is not taken as lightly as it was before."

Arya groaned and sank into a chair. If she wanted a reprimand she would have stayed at home with her mother. "I'm not marrying that loathsome fool."

"How about talking to father about it instead of running away?" Jon asked dryly. Arya shot him a dark look.

"You really think that would have made a difference? I want to be a knight, not a lady!"

Jon looked at her. "What about Gendry?"

"What about him?" she met his gaze and glared daringly back at him. She had expected some support from him, not him telling her how foolish she had been.

His lips twisted into a small smile and he dropped his gaze. "You know what I mean, Arya."

Arya narrowed her eyes at him. What did he know? Had anyone seen the two of them together? And quite frankly, she did not know what would happen to her and Gendry once she became a knight. And if Gendry really wanted to marry her, wasn't she against marriage? She hated everything about it. But then again, the idea of living the rest of her life watching Gendry with some other girl was unbearable.

"You like him," Jon stated with a smirk. "You really like him! I didn't think I would live to see the day when Arya Stark, the young wolf, fell in love with a man."

Arya grimaced at him. "It's nothing," she said quietly. She could not lie, not to Jon. It really was nothing. Yet. Only a few kisses from time to time, that was all.

But Arya knew when she went to check up on her blacksmith friend that 'nothing' was not enough. She wanted Gendry by her side, now and forever.

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**A little mushy there at the end. He-he. But whatever. I just want to inform you that I haven't finished reading A _dance of dragons_ yet, so I don't really know how Jon turned out after he became lord commander, so if there is any obvious error, you'll have to excuse me. But this is a fanfic after all.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**Bran**

When Bran received the letter from Jon, he summoned the new captain of guards at once and ordered him to send fifty men to the wall to bring back his sister and her friend. The men had left the same morning.

He had also received a letter from his lady mother, where she told him she would return to Winterfell in a few days, which, judging by the date of the letter would be today or tomorrow. He knew his mother would be disappointed in him for losing control of Arya like this, but it wasn't entirely his fault. If he had been able to move his legs, he would have hurried after her and forced her to stay. But his legs were lamb, and he was chained to the chair for the rest of his life.

"Did lady Catelyn say anything about Robb?" Talla asked for what had to be the seventh time that day. Bran shook his head patiently.

"And you've received no letter from him or your father?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied shortly. Talla was more worried about her husband and his wellbeing than she had ever been for Arya, but Bran knew it wasn't fair to hold it against her; she was pregnant with Robb's child. If it was not a boy, Talla's place at Winterfell would mean nothing if Robb died. Unless she married him instead, of course. Bran frowned by the thought and rolled himself to his chamber. He was merely a cripple; no woman in their right mind would ever wish to marry him. He could not walk, had difficulty dressing himself and could certainly not breed. Any possible wife of his would have to seek company elsewhere, and then what was the point? No, the only thing Bran could do was study and use knowledge as his weapon. As maester Luwin once had said: knowledge is power.

* * *

**Arya**

The days they spend on the Wall were one of the happiest days Arya had had in weeks. She weas allowed to train with the newcomers, and to her amusement, she beat almost every one of them. Gendry on the other hand, had trouble with his leg, and would simply sit and watch as she danced around the new recruits. From time to time, Jon would stand on the balcony, watching her with a smirk on his lips. The knights of the night's watch were oblivious to her real identity. Well, except for the three men who found her and Gendry in the woods of course. And then there were the maester who would frequently summon them to see how their wounds were healing. But other than that, Arya and Gendry were treated like any other recruit, and Arya loved every minute of it. When Jon had brought them to the top of the wall and let them gaze at the view, she had decided that if she hadn't been a girl, she would have done as her brother and taken the black. She could see that Gendry was thinking the same, except he could do so if he wanted, and the thought scared her. What if he left her? What if he decided he'd become a part of this strange family and wear nothing but black? _Take no wife and father no children_, the vow said.

They were eating supper in the great hall when she finally found the courage to ask him. Gendry had watched her closely, hesitating before his lips twisted into a smile.

"Don't worry, Arry. I'm not leaving you just yet."

She bit her lip, wondering what he meant about 'just yet', but didn't get the chance to ask as a boy called Hot Pie sat down next to them and the men were soon in deep conversation about swordfights and old knights. Arya lost her appetite and escaped to the room they were sharing with other recruits who were too injured to start training yet. Jon told her that the knights usually slept in cells beneath the rookery and only those who needed frequent tending slept in the small room at the second floor. Except for Arya and Gendry, three other men occupied the beds, but Arya rarely saw them. They were either fast asleep or with the maester.

"I want to show you something," Gendry suddenly said, standing in the doorway looking at her. She helped him down the stairs and followed him as he hurried as quickly as possible on his wounded leg across the yard. He disappeared through a small archway leading to a heated room. She smiled as Gendry lit a torch and hanged it on the wall.

"The maester says I'm well enough to start working again," he told her, his eyes beaming. She looked around the forge, and stopped by the unfinished swords hanging on the wall.

"They lack blacksmiths. I believe your brother wants me to stay."

Arya turned toward him, grimacing. "You won't, though?"

"No, I won't. But I might as well help out while I'm here," his fingers ran across the tools placed on a wide counter and she could see the longing in his eyes. It had been weeks since the last time he had worked, and she hadn't realized how much he missed it until now.

"It must be great, making something so beautiful out of nothing. Like magic." She clutched her fingers around the necklace he had given her so many months earlier.

Gendry smiled widely, a hammer in his hand. "We make most of steel, but I see your point. There's nothing like it."

"They're coming to take us back home, you know," Arya said quietly. She had considered running away again, but with Gendry's bad leg it would be impossible without a horse. Besides, she was certain Jon had someone watching her at all times, and she knew he would stop her if she tried.

"I know," Gendry replied, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. "Don't you miss home?"

Arya bit her lip. Of course she missed home. But she still had no intentions of marrying Dickon Tarly, and unless her mother realized that, she would run away again until the betrothal was cancelled.

"I miss Bran, and Rickon, and Robb and Sansa. And even Talla," she admitted. Gendry stroke her arm gently. It was the only caress they dared share at Castle Black in fear of someone catching them, and Arya's fingers itched to touch his hair and stroke his beard. She wanted to feel his arms around her and taste his lips against hers.

"Gendry?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you come to Winterfell?"

Gendry shrugged, shaking his head. "I honestly don't know. Why do you ask?"

Arya bit her lip. "I believe father traveled south because of you," she said quietly. Gendry snorted and gave a little chuckle, but when he saw her serious face he fell silent.

"Why?"

"I don't know why, I just think it's got something to do with you. It's a bit odd, don't you think? A strange blacksmith comes to town, father talks to Mikken, and then he's off to king's Landing, just like that?"

Gendry scratched his beard, his brows furred. "You seem to have given this a lot of thought."

Arya nodded. "I first thought of it when father left, but I told myself it had to be a coincidence, but I'm not so sure anymore. Are you sure you don't know who your father is?"

"I've told you before, it could be anyone."

Arya sighed and pulled away from his touch. "We should head back before they start calling us cocksuckers," she said. Gendry nodded and limped after her. But as she froze in the archway, Gendry walked right into her, groaning.

"What?" he asked. She turned and looked at his face, half conceal by the shadow from the archway.

"If mother do still intend to give me away to Dickon, you'll fight for me, won't you?" she asked. Gendry smiled and nodded.

"Anything for m'lady," he said, winking.

* * *

**Catelyn**

Catelyn almost ran across the yard and through the entrance hall, only to find Bran awaiting her in the great hall.

"How could you let her get away?" she asked, her voice trembling with anger. Bran flinched in his chair and looked apologetically at her.

"She ran in the night," he started, but Catelyn cut him off.

"I left you in charge, Brandon. I expected more from you," she gave him a sharp look and swept past him, leaving him with a sulky expression on his face. She knew it wasn't Bran's fault entirely, but the worry blurred her judgment, and she let all of her frustration out on him.

"Mother," he started, rolling after her. She turned and looked at him, forcing herself to calm down. "We've located Arya and the blacksmith. They're at the Wall with Jon."

Catelyn did not know whether to be relieved or furious. At least Arya was alive, but she had gone to seek her bastard brother, the place she knew Catelyn would disapprove of the most.

"Is she hurt?" she asked. Bran shook his head and handed her a note with delicate writing on. She recognized it as the bastard's at once.

"The smith took a spear to the thigh, though," Bran said. "He was cornered by wildlings while searching for her. Nymeria saved his life."

Catelyn silently thanked the gods for the wolf pups who kept proving their use over and over again. Summer had saved Bran's life when he fell from the tower, Nymeria had saved Arya from being stabbed by the prince, and now the gray wolf had once again kept Arya and her friend out of harm's way.

"I've sent men to take them home. I believe they will return by the end of this week."

Catelyn nodded gratefully, but wished her son had sent a raven to inform her about the newest turn of events. Then she wouldn't have had to scold him for letting Arya escape.

"You've done well, Bran," she told him, patting his shoulder.

"How's Sansa?" he asked. Catelyn sat down by the table across from him, folding her hands.

"She seems happy," she told him earnestly. "Although she seemed a little disappointed at first, she and Edric got along well enough. I believe we will receive a raven concerning our expected grandchildren soon enough."

Bran smiled. "Was the wedding everything she had imagined?"

"The wedding was wonderful. Seventeen courses! Sansa looked so beautiful in her dress; an early wedding gift from her husband. She beamed as they exchanged cloaks. Oh, Bran, everything was perfect."

She could not find words for how relieved she had been when everything worked out like she wanted. Sansa seemed to have forgotten everything about Jory, and lived happily as the lady of Starfall.

"She asked me to remind you all to write as often as you can. Although there is more Tully in her than Stark, I believe she misses the north as much as any of you would."

Bran hesitated. "Arya misses her too, you know. At first, I thought she had gone south to visit Sansa in Dorne. Obviously, I was wrong."

Catelyn sighed and took his hand in hers. "Arya has always been difficult. I don't blame you for what happened, Bran, and neither should you." She paused for a moment before continuing. "This smith she's with. It's the black-haired boy, isn't it?"

When Bran nodded, Catelyn felt her stomach twist. "What do you know about the two of them?"

Her son rubbed his cheek with his hand, deciding whether to answer or not. In the end, he took a deep breath and said, "I believe they are in love, mother."

* * *

**Gendry**

They were fast asleep when a sudden yell tore them from their dreams. Gendry sat up abruptly in his bed, looking around. The men that usually slept with them were all gone. Arya where awake, and had already jumped out of her bed and was starting to get dressed.

"Gendry, come on," she urged. Gendry obeyed, but wondered what was going on, when the door opened with a loud crack and Jon stood in the doorframe.

"Arya, you need to leave, now!" he said, throwing a pair of thick woolen cloaks at them.

Arya shot her brother a confused look while struggling to get her feet in the right leg of her breeches. "What's going on?" she asked. "I heard noises."

"We are being attacked by wildlings. The two of you need to leave at once. We can't wait for Bran's men to come for you. Castle Black is not safe anymore." He pulled Gendry to his feet and handed Arya her arms.

"I can stay and fight," Arya offered, but Jon shook his head determinedly.

"There are two mounts ready for you in the yard. Go now while you have the chance." His voice was shaking with worry. "And Arya?"

The girl froze and looked up at her brother.

"Promise you'll leave and do not turn around. I have no men to spare, and can't make sure you'll return to Winterfell, but as your brother, I beg you."

Arya bit her lip, considering his words. "I promise," she said quietly. Jon nodded in relief. When he urged them to hurry, Arya put her arm around Gendry and supported him down the stairs. Gendry felt weak and vulnerable in this state, but knew he needed all the help he could get. Although the maester had done what he could to heal the wound, his treatment had made his leg hurt even worse.

"Gendry," Jon said, holding him back. Arya sighed impatiently, but stopped to listen. "Take care of my little sister."

Gendry nodded, forcing a smile. "I will, don't worry."

Although they saw nothing but the yard beneath the Wall, they could hear yelling and screams of agony. Jon motioned toward a pair of horses tide up outside the stable, and hurried to give Arya one last hug.

"I have to go," he said. "They've held the Wall long enough without me. I love you little sister." And then he ran. Arya stared after him for a moment, her face expressionless.

"We have to leave too," Gendry told her, remembering Jon's words. "The sooner the better."

Arya nodded, and half-carried him to the horses, before pushing him atop the biggest one. They left through the side-gate which was heavily guarded with knights of the night's watch. They shot them strange looks as they left; Arya and he were, after all, supposed to be new recruits.

"Cravens!" some yelled after them, just as a rain of spears flew through the sky. "They'll behead you for this!"

Nymeria came running up beside them as they rode through the pitch-black darkness. Although the wolf did not like him much, Gendry felt a lot safer with her by his side.

* * *

**I know the stay at Castle Black wasn't very long, but don't worry, there's still a lot of action coming your way! **


	18. Chapter 18

**I've still got a lot of chapters to post, but I really struggle with the ending and suffer from a massive writers block... which sucks, because then I can't update as often as I'd like. But anyways, here's the next chapter! **

* * *

Chapter 18

**Arya**

"We should hide," Gendry said when they reached the village outside Castle Black. "The wildlings might be in the woods."

Arya frowned. "We can't hide in the village though, that would be too foolish. I say we ride until dawn, if someone _does_ come after us, at least we'll be ahorse and then we have a chance of outriding them."

"Shouldn't we warn the villagers?" Gendry asked.

Arya bit her lip and nodded. "Stay here, I'll do it."

She knew he was about to object, but she shot him a determined look, and he fell silent. "Stay with Gendry," she told Nymeria, knowing Gendry would be helpless if someone was to attack him. Although he had both a sword and a hammer, he had small chances of escaping anyone on his wounded leg.

Arya jumped off her horse and ran to the nearest house where she knocked on her door with all her might. "Wildling attack at Castle black!" she yelled from the top of her lungs. "EVERYBODY WAKE UP, THERE'S A WILDLING ATTACK AT CASTLE BLACK!"

An old man appeared in the doorway, his face bewildered. "Wildlings, you say? Is this a jape?"

"No, it's true! You need to warn the rest of the village. You have to be ready in case they come here." But the man simply snorted and shot the door in her face, muttering something about 'immature fools not letting a man sleep at night'.

Arya sighed and ran to another house, repeating her words. She ran from house to house until finally a young lady took her words seriously, and helped her wake the rest of the village. By the time Arya felt she could leave, dawn was on the edge of breaking. Gendry sat ahorse, fast asleep.

"Gendry!" she said, nudging him. The blacksmith awoke with a startle and looked around, his sword drawn.

"Let's proceed," Arya told him, climbing onto her horse.

If there were wildlings in the woods, Arya and Gendry never saw anyone and were left alone for the rest of the morning. When midday came, Arya found herself recognizing the surroundings, and she felt a strange feeling of longing jolt through her.

"Are we truly going back to Winterfell, or did you only say so to make your brother happy?" Gendry asked.

Arya sighed. "I'd never lie to Jon. I guess it's about time we return home and face my mother."

Gendry cleared his throat. "Are you going to tell her? I mean, about me?"

Arya could imagine what her mother would say about her relationship with Gendry. Her disapproving voice echoed in her ears. _'He's only a blacksmith'. _But Gendry was so much more than a smith. He was kind, and good, brave and strong, and he understood her like no one else did.

"Yes," she said confidentially, meeting his eyes. "Why, would you rather I did not?"

Gendry snorted back a laugh. "To be honest, I do not know. Your mother frightens me."

Arya let out a thrill of laughter, forgetting everything about her worries for Jon and the other knights back at the Wall. Gendry was right, Catelyn could be rather terrifying.

"If she does not approve, which I'm sure she won't, we'll just run away again," she said, smiling.

Gendry however, did not find this amusing. "Your brother is right, you know. The woods are much too dangerous; it's not safe for a lady and a smith to travel alone."

She sighed, knowing he was right, again. Gendry usually were. What he lacked in swordfight, he made up for in common sense. Why did he have to be so damn sensible all the time?

"Fine. Then I'll just have to convince my mother that Dickon is not a proper match for me," she said stubbornly.

They rode for several hours until their stomachs twisted with hunger and their eyelids grew heavy.

"We have to stop," Arya said, struggling to keep herself awake. "The horses need to rest."

Nymeria led them to a hollow tree, where they found shelter for the night. Arya handed Gendry a piece of dried horsemeat and ate the last herself. They would need to gather more food in the morrow.

They sat cramped together inside the hollow tree, Gendry with his arm around Arya's shoulder. She was so tired she couldn't even talk and fell asleep on his shoulder within minutes, breathing in his familiar scent.

They rode for three days before they caught a glimpse of a group of people from the hill they were camping on for the night.

"I counted seventeen," Gendry said, staring down at the party; they had put up tents and lit fires where they could boil soup and grill meat. He felt his stomach growl by the thought of real food, and suggested they rode down to meet them at once, but Arya shook her head.

"It will take us hours to reach them. By the time we're there, they'll be fast asleep. The horses need rest. We can ride down early in the morrow."

"Are you sure they're from Winterfell? I see no banner."

Arya narrowed her eyes, gazing through the twilight. "Who else would it be?"

"We should take a closer look before we reveal ourselves," Gendry said stubbornly. Arya sighed, but finally agreed.

"We'll wait until they fall asleep, that way the horses can rest for a few hours."

Gendry pushed his hair out of his eyes. "They'll have someone awake and alert at all times. We won't be able to come close to the camp without being noticed."

Arya bit her lip, staring down at the group. "Unless…" her voice trailed off and her eyes widened in amusement. She turned toward him, deciding whether to tell him about her wolf dreams or not.

"There's something you don't know…" she started, rubbing her neck. Gendry turned to her and gave her an apprehensive look.

Arya took a deep breath. "I sometimes enter Nymeria's mind," she blurted out, cursing the stupidity of her formulation. Gendry snorted with laughter, but his smile died when he saw her serious expression.

"What do you mean?" he asked skeptically.

"When you were attacked by those wildlings, I was there," she told him. Gendry shook his head, his lips twitching.

"You're tired, Arya. You should sleep."

Arya crossed her arms and scowled at him. "I'm serious, Gendry. I saw the whole thing! I attacked those wildlings. It wasn't Nymeria, well, it was, but it was really me!"

"You know what you're saying is madness, right? Go to sleep, you obviously need it."

Arya stood up. "I knew I shouldn't tell you. I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Wait, Arya-" Gendry called after her, but Arya was already running through the snow, as far away from him as possible. She knew he couldn't follow on his leg, and hoped he didn't have the sense to take one of the horses. She had confessed her deepest secret, and he didn't believe her. He, her rock, her best friend. If Gendry didn't take her word for her dreams, who would?

"Arya," she could hear him shout as loud as he dared, but she refused to turn around. She stopped by a fallen tree, and crawled beneath it, trapped between the trunk and the snowy ground. He wouldn't find her here. She could come out whenever she felt like it. But right now, she wanted nothing more than to be alone.

With a little whimper, she took several deep breaths, and for the first time in what felt like years, she finally released the tears that had been building up ever since she left Winterfell.

* * *

**Bran**

They were seated around the table in the great hall, eating breakfast, when maester Luwin came with a note for Bran. As he unrolled the piece of paper, Catelyn, Rickon an Talla all stared apprehensively at him.

"It's from Jon," Bran told them. "There was a wildling attack at Castle Black, so he had no choice but to send Arya on her way."

Catelyn gasped. "Is Arya out there by herself? How could he do such a thing? One can expect nothing more from a-"

Bran frowned and cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest of her sentence. "The blacksmith is with her. Mother, calm down, he did the right thing. Besides, our men can't be that far from the wall by now, Arya'll find them."

"Oh, Bran, you know as well as I do that when she gets the chance, she'll take off again. Your bastard brother served her an escape on a silver platter. She's not coming back, not yet."

Bran clutched the letter in his hand, curling it into a ball. She was right. Unless Arya wanted to return, she would find a way to avoid the guards and travel to gods know where.

"Is there still no word from Robb?" Talla asked, stroking her still growing stomach. She was seven months pregnant now, and was getting more and more afraid that her husband wouldn't get home in time.

"I'm sorry, my lady," Bran told her earnestly, secretly hoping the lack of news where good news.

Catelyn rose to her feet. "That is it. Maester Luwin, have Thydor prepare a horse for me. I'm going north!"

"Mother, is that really a good idea? You just returned. Talla needs you when the baby comes. And we hardly have any men left to spare."

Catelyn crossed her arms and looked down at him with a stubborn expression on her face. An expression he had witnessed so many times before in the faces of his sisters. "She is my daughter, Bran. Do you expect me to sit by quietly as she makes another foolish escape?"

Bran had a suspicion of why their mother wanted to take off so suddenly; not only to bring Arya back, but to prove that his previous statement was not true. That Arya was not in love with a bastard smith. "I did not want to do this, but you leave me no choice," Bran said in a calm voice. "Mother, as the head of Winterfell I command you to stay put. You shall not leave the castle walls – you will help Talla through the last months of her pregnancies, and when Arya do return, you shall accept her wish and decline the proposal from the Tarly's."

Catelyn stood speechless for a moment, her mouth open. "Brandon," she finally uttered. "I am your mother-"

"Which makes this even harder to do," Bran stated.

"You can't make me stay, boy. I am the Lady of Winterfell, you have no authority of me!"

Bran crossed his arms, meeting her gaze. "Don't I? As I recall, with both father and Robb gone, I am in charge of this castle and I can make you do whatever I please."

"But-"

"Sit down and finish your meal mother," he ordered her, ignoring her deathly stare. Talla and Rickon sat in silence, watching them with wide eyes. "By the end of the day you will have sent a raven to the Tarly's and explained to them that Arya has no desire to marry their son. Is that understood?"

Catelyn clenched her jaw, looking positively furious, but nodded stiffly.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he left the hall, and found himself breathing nervously. He had always been an obedient child, and never rebelled in any way. Until now. Would his mother ever forgive him?

* * *

**Arya**

She had believed the fallen tree concealed her perfectly, but knew her cover was ruined when she heard steps through the snow drawing nearer and nearer.

"Go away, Gendry," she told him, but she could hear him crouching down beside him. "I want to be alone!"

He said nothing as he reached out and seized her elbow. "Leave!" she snapped, pulling away. Suddenly, his strong hands grabbed her arm and pulled her out from under the trunk. She fought against his grip, struggling to break free as he yanked her into his arms, his hand wrapped around her waist. Her feet left the ground, and she kicked and punched to get back down.

"LET GO OF ME!" she commanded. She tried to turn to meet his eyes, but his grip was too tight. "Gendry, this isn't funny, you're hurting me."

He had never been so rough before. Whenever they wrestled, he would hold back his strength to prevent himself from harming her. This was not like him.

"Put me down this instant!"

When the man holding her sniggered in a deep, hoarse voice, she knew it wasn't Gendry. This was someone who didn't have her best interest in mind.

"Who are you?" she asked, reaching for her dagger, but remembered she had left it in her satchel back with her horses. The man put his large hand over her mouth.

"Quiet, girl," he told her. Arya wanted to protest, to tell him she was a boy, but his hand choked back all sound. She made one last attempt to wriggle free, but the man was too strong. He had caught both her fist in his left hand, and jerked her over the back of a horse.

"The king will want to meet you, sweetling," the man whispered into her ear as he tied a rope around her hands. Arya tried to kick his head, but he ducked away, a nasty grin plastered on his bearded face.

"GENDRY!" she yelled from the top of her lungs. The man hurried to put a piece of cloth into her mouth. "Nymeria," she tried, but the sound where muffled by the cloth. Where were her wolf men she needed her? Something must have happened; Nymeria wouldn't let something happen to her unless she was hurt!

She was positively paralyzed by the ropes when the man mounted his horse and rode through the trees, further and further away from Gendry. Arya felt her throat thicken. She had faced danger before, but she had always had someone by her side. Now, she was alone and helpless.

* * *

**What do you think?**


	19. Chapter 19

I am really sorry for the long delay, but at least I've got a good excuse; for the past week I've been traveling through Europe with my school, so... Can you forgive me? To make amends I'll post two chapters today. Hope you'll enjoy it.

* * *

Chapter 19

Gendry

Gendry waited and waited, but Arya never returned. He searched the closest area for her, but in vain. She was nowhere to be found. It had been snowing since twilight, and every footprint she once left was completely erased. He looked through her satchel, and found both her dagger and her sword. Nymeria was gone as well. Gendry felt slightly intimidated by the dark and kept returning to the edge of the hill to glance at the group of people just to make sure they were still there. Was it possible Arya had gone down to spy on them? No, she wouldn't have gone that far without telling him. Although she was angry with him, she wasn't stupid.

"Arya?" he called, not even caring if some wildlings heard him instead of her. He had to find her, or he would never forgive himself for letting her go out into the woods by herself.

He limped toward the horses and looked down at the camp. The men were still awake, and judging by the noise they made, they were drunk. Gendry sighed and patted his horse affectionately, wondering where he should look next. Perhaps she would return when she was ready. Yes, that seemed reasonable. But then again, what if she was hurt or abducted? He had to keep looking.

Suddenly, a loud cheering from the group caught his attention. They sure were loud! He narrowed his eyes and stared down at the camp. About ten men were gathered around the fire, when another one appeared with a bundle in his arms. The others ran to him like a flock of ravens. Gendry snorted and turned away, when suddenly the bundle jerked out of the man's arm and made a run for it. However, it didn't take long before it was caught again. Gendry's eyes widened in surprise as a suspicion found its way to his mind. Could it be? No, Arya was too clever to be caught by anyone! But then again, she had been upset – vulnerable. He looked closer and realized the bundle were exactly her size. _Dammit Gendry, how could you let her go off on herself_, he cursed himself, mounting his horse. He had to save her! The gods knew what the men would do to her if he didn't.

* * *

Arya

"Look at this pretty little girl," a man with only one eye said, reaching out to touch her cheek. Arya hissed at him, snapping after his fingers. Her gesture made the men laugh even harder.

"She's fierce," another grinned.

Arya glared at them. Although her body ached from the bumpy ride down the hill, she was determined not to let them touch her. She was a Stark, a wolf – Starks didn't give up so easy. "Let me go," she told them in her stern voice, mimicking her mother's persuasiveness, but the men ignored her order and closed in around her.

"I bet she's a maid," one mad sniggered. Arya shot him a deadly stare.

"Well, perhaps we ought to do something about that," the man without an eye said, reaching out for her behind. Arya jerked away, wriggling her hands to get out of the rope tying her wrists together.

"Stop," her capturer said. "She's for the king. No one is to touch her."

Although she hated the man who caught her, she felt a rush of gratitude toward him for his words. One man she could fight, but a whole group… she would rather have her maidenhead intact when she returned to Gendry.

"The king will not arrive for three days still," someone complained. "She can keep us company in the meantime."

Her capturer shook his head determinedly and dragged her along through the group. Arya snapped after the wandering hands reaching after her.

"You are not the one in charge, Borin!" someone yelled after him, but her capturer kept going until they reached the tent furthest away from the fire. He shoved her inside and followed quickly. She crawled as far away from him as she was able to get.

"Calm down, girl, I won't hurt you," he told her, sitting down by the entrance. "Not unless you give me a reason to."

Arya snarled at him. "You have no idea who you've brought on yourself," she said through clenched teeth. Borin chuckled and looked at her with an amused expression on his face.

"Is that a threat little girl? You don't seem so dangerous to me… When I found you, you were hiding under a tree, crying your eyes out."

"I was not!" she contradicted.

Borin brought a dagger from his belt and leaned closer to her. she pulled away, her heart skipping a beat. As the cold steel met her throat, chills went down her spine, and her breath grew deeper and quicker. "If you are to kill me, just do it already!" she snapped, forcing her voice to sound calm and confident. Borin let his blade caress her from her ear to her chest. Arya kept still, knowing if she moved, the blade could slip and she would earn a cut from his recklessness.

"I'm not going to kill you. Yet." He told her in an exaggerated soft voice. He moved the dagger all the way to her waist before cutting the rope off her wrists. "One wrong move and I will not hesitate to slice your stomach open and cook your entrails for dinner."

He put his dagger back in his belt and looked at her. "A girl, dressed as a boy. May I ask why?"

Arya glared at him. "Safer to travel," she said, realizing the irony as she uttered the words.

"Clever," Borin said, smirking. "You're quite a fierce little lady, aren't you?"

Arya felt panic creep up on her. Did he know who she was? "I'm not a lady!" she insisted.

"That I can see," he replied dryly. "What are you then? A butcher's daughter?"

"No," Arya said. "I belong to a blacksmith."

Borin laughed. "You belong to? Does that mean you are betrothed, or is that your obnoxious way of saying your father's a smith?"

Arya forced her lips to twist into a smile. "It means you will all pay for abducting me. You will die in the rough hands of a smith."

Although she had said so to intimidate him, the man only laughed harder. "I'd like to see that," he snorted. "No common smith can kill me. I am a king's knight!"

"You're one of Joffrey's nights? I wonder why no one ever cut _his_ stomach open. He's a vile, evil little creep!"

Borin's laughter echoed through the woods. He was laughing so hard he had difficulty breathing. "You truly are a tough one, aren't you? But I quite agree with you little lady. That bastard should be slaughtered and fed to the crows! I am one of King Stannis' men, you see. The rightful king."

Arya gasped. King Stannis? King Roberts' brother?

"Why is king Stannis headed for the Wall?" she asked curiously.

"Why do you have so many questions little one. What is your name anyway?"

Arya bit her lip. "Nan," she replied quickly. "Now answer my question."

Borin sighed but did as she told him. "He has some business to discuss with the lord commander."

"With Jon?" Arya blurted without thinking.

Borin narrowed his eyes and studied her. "Do you know the lord commander, girl?"

Arya hesitated. If she told too much, her lie could become too transparent. "Of course- I'm from the north. Everyone knows the lord commander's name."

He still looked suspicios, but let it slide. "Very well, Nan. Perhaps you ought to get some sleep while we wait for your blacksmith to put his wrath on me, eh?"

"What does the king want with me anyway?" she asked. She could see Borin considering untying the rope around her legs, but decided against it; she couldn't get very far with her feet tied up.

"Not as much the king as the witch of a mistress of his," Borin replied. Arya felt a rush of fear jolt through her. Witch? But witches weren't real, were they? That was just something old Nan had told them to scare them when they were little, wasn't it?

"So what? She is to transform me into a frog or something?" Arya said, choking back a laugh. She did not believe in witches, no more than she believed in the white walkers or dragons. If they ever existed, they were long gone.

"You better pray that's all she'll do," Borin replied earnestly, wiping the smile off Arya's face. "For your sake I hope your smith saves you before she arrives."

* * *

Gendry

He rode through the darkness, following the noise. Concealed by the trees, he was able to reach the camp unnoticed. Some of the men had finally gone to sleep, but some were still awake. He wished Nymeria was there with him, but did not let the lack of protection prevent him from taking dangerous risks. The only thing on his mind was getting Arya safe back to Winterfell.

He walked around the camp several times, trying to catch a glimpse of the youngest Stark daughter, but she were nowhere to be seen. She had to be inside one of the tents. The idea of what might happen in there made him sick, and urged him to keep looking.

"I'll take the first watch," someone said from the fire. Gendry froze in his place and held his breath as the man drew nearer, a sword hanging by his belt and an arch swung over his shoulder. The man passed him only feet away, the stench of wine filling Gendry's nostrils. He sat down, but was too drunk to stay awake and was soon swaying back and forth between sleep and consciousness.

Gendry waited until he heard the man's loud snoring before he tip-toed past him and hid behind the nearest tent. He somehow had to find out in which they kept Arya.

"There's nothing like a woman on a night like this," someone laughed from the fire. Gendry looked around the corner of the tent and caught a glimpse of a man with only one eye. "Perhaps I ought to find Borin's little lady."

The other men agreed and followed him as he got to his feet and hurried through the camp. Gendry followed as quickly as he could on his leg; trying as best he could not to be seen. But the knights were so drunk they wouldn't have noticed anything strange about him anyway. The men found their way to a tent on the outside of the camp, but when they tried to enter, a tall, broad men stopped them, leaving them all beaten and bruised,

"She's for the king you fools!" he yelled after them as they crawled as fast as they could back to the fire, whimpering in agony.

As the tall man returned into the tent, Gendry caught a glimpse of a mane of short brown hair. Arya!

"Let me go and no harm will come to you." Gendry recognized Arya's familiar voice – her stubborn tone that was impossible to contradict.

"Shut up, little girl. You ought to be grateful for my protection."

"I can protect myself," she replied stiffly.

The man sniggered. "Oh, yes, you really put up a good fight when I found you." His voice was oozing with sarcasm.

"You caught me off guard," Arya said. Gendry was surprised to hear that she did not sound scared at all. Yes, Arya was more fearless than most girls, but even she should be terrified after being kidnapped by a large, suspicious looking knight.

"So they all say," the man chuckled.

"Put a sword in my hand and I will wipe that smirk off your face!"

Gendry caught himself smiling. It was so relieving to hear her voice and knowing she was unharmed and protected. Even if it was by the man who abducted her in the first place.

"Big words from a little girl."

Gendry listened to their conversation while trying to come up with a way to get Arya out of there.

"I'm a woman grown," she insisted.

"Yet you prefer to dress up like a boy. Perhaps you wish to be like Brienne the Beauty?" Gendry heard the man's japing tone, but Gendry knew that being a knight was Arya's biggest desire.

"Indeed," she replied calmly.

"Too bad you won't live to fulfill your dream."

The tent suddenly went very quiet. Gendry held his breath while waiting for her response. "What do you mean?" she finally asked. The man laughed a dark, hollow laughter.

"I thought you were a clever girl. You ought to realize what the witch wants with a young maid. Did your wet nurse never tell you stories? Oh, wait, my apologies, a simple _blacksmith'_s daughter wouldn't have a wet nurse."

"You mean she is to sacrifice me?" Arya asked.

The man snorted. "So you _have_ heard the stories."

Gendry's heart skipped a beat. A witch? But witches weren't real! He looked around, determined to find a way to smuggle Arya out, but he was completely empty for ideas. Suddenly, Arya herself came with a way.

"I have to pee," she told her capturer.

"I don't care," the man replied. "You can wet yourself; I'm not stupid enough to take you outside." Gendry could only imagine the stubborn look on Arya's face.

"Do you expect me to shit myself as well? Imagine the stench you have to sleep in."

The man snorted. "Your language is much too filthy for a little girl like you."

"Perhaps I ought to take a shit in your armor instead. I'm sure King Stannis will enjoy having a stinking knight protecting him."

"Shut up little girl! I'll not let you out of my sight. I hope you're not shy."

They came out of the tent only moments later, the man pulling Arya by her elbow. Arya glanced around and when she caught a sight of him, her face erupted into a smile. Their previous discussion was obviously long forgotten.

"Come along," the man urged, jerking her arm, but Arya's feet were tied up and she had to jump after him. The man grew so impatient he gathered her into his arms and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"I can walk by myself," Arya insisted. The man ignored her as he walked with long steps into the woods. Gendry followed quickly. He was so caught up with watching Arya, he didn't pay enough attention to the other knights in the camp, and suddenly he froze by the sound of steps behind him.

"Who are you?" someone asked. Gendry turned around, holding his breath. A man in his thirties stood in front of him, his arms crossed.

Gendry hesitated. The man didn't seem as drunk as the others, but he could still catch the stench of alcohol. "I'm new," he tried. The man snorted, seizing his arm.

"Nice try, stupid!" Gendry jerked out of the man's grip and danced away from him just like Arya always danced whenever they fought with sticks. The man hurried after him, reaching out for him time after time. "WE HAVE AN INTRUDER!" he bellowed from the top of his lungs when he realized catching him wouldn't be as easy as he thought. Several men approached, and Gendry had to quicken his pace to escape them all, ignoring the throbbing pain in his thigh.

"Get him!" someone yelled. Gendry ducked away from a sword, rolled on the ground and ran into the woods. Although he would miss the opportunity to save Arya this time, he had to get away from the knights. What use would he be if he too were captured? Glancing over his shoulder to make sure he had escaped them all, he suddenly hit something and fell to the ground.

"Well, well, well, who is this? Could it be the smith playing knight in shining armor?"

Gendry looked up at Arya's capturer, cursing himself for being so reckless.

"Gendry!" Arya called from behind the man, but it was too late. The man was much too strong for him, and had already wrapped Gendry's arms behind his back.

"Looks like the witch will have too virgins to sacrifice when the time comes."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Arya

They were tied up together in the tent with Borin watching them closely. "I'm truly sorry," Gendry whispered to her for what had to be the sixth time that night.

"It's okay, Gendry. We'll find a way out of here," she replied. But she knew her words meant nothing to him; his pride was hurt as well as bad as his leg.

"Quiet lovebirds," Borin snapped.

Arya glared at him. Although he had kidnapped her, tied her up and brought her to a camp of drunk knights, he had prevented them from raping her and had not harmed her in any way. The old man had started to grow on her, until now. She wished Gendry had been more careful – if he had only managed to escape the other knights without running into her capturer, they could have overpowered Borin and returned to Winterfell, but no, he had to be clumsy enough to be caught as well. But she knew blaming him would only make matters worse. She too had, after all, managed to get herself abducted.

"How long are you intending to keep us here?" Arya asked. Her back was already aching by the awkward position.

"Until the king comes."

"When will he be here?"

"That is none of your business."

Arya frowned. "At least bring us some food. We haven't eaten in days."

"Does this look like an inn to you?" the man barked, sharpening his dagger on a whetstone.

"If the witch is to sacrifice us, I'm sure she needs us alive," Arya reasoned.

"Keep quiet, girl, or I'll strike you."

She felt Gendry stiffen by his words, and immediately knew what would happen next. "Don't you dare touch her!"

Borin chuckled. "And what are you going to do about it, smithy? If you haven't noticed yet, your hands are tied." The man reached out and cupped Arya's chin. She snapped after his fingers, making him laugh even harder. Gendry twisted in anger, jerking his hands in an attempt to break free.

"Calm down, Gendry," Arya muttered to him, but the smith ignored her.

"Get your filthy fingers off of her!"

Borin leaned closer to her, stroking her cheek. "I guess this answers my questions. The blacksmith you belong to is not your father, but your betrothed."

Arya scowled at him, clenching her jaw. "Don't touch me," she told him, pulling away from his caress.

"Leave her alone," Gendry demanded. Borin sighed and backed away, lying down on his elbows.

"Cute," he said dryly. "Almost sickening. I bet you'd repeat yourselves all night if I hadn't stopped."

"Bring us food and we will keep quiet," Arya told him. Borin smirked but shook his head.

"However tempting your offer is, I know from experience that once you're hungry enough you won't have strength to talk anymore. Why waste food when I'll get the result I desire for free?"

Arya groaned and leaned back against Gendry's strong shoulders. She was so tired her eyelids threatened to close at any moment.

"I have to say, I'm not very impressed by this smith of yours," Borin sniggered. "You talked so highly of him, I had expected someone a little more… well, not a klutz."

"Shut up!" Arya snapped, but Borin ignored her.

"What do a smith and his ladylove do in the forest by themselves anyway?"

She felt Gendry tense and prayed to the gods he wouldn't do anything stupid. They were in enough trouble as it was.

"Who said we're alone?" she asked. "Mayhaps there is a whole camp of people waiting for our return."

Borin scoffed. "We found your horses, little lady. And a wolf."

"A wolf?"

"Don't worry. It's dead."

The words hit her like a punch in the stomach. Nyemria? Dead?

* * *

Bran

When they didn't hear from neither Jon nor the group of guards he sent to the Wall in the next couple of days, Bran decided to write to his father and tell him about everything that was happening. Ned had been gone for seven months now; it was about time he returned and help clean up this mess. His mother had not talked to him since he had denied her to ride north and both Tall and Rickon was acting abnormally chilly toward him. Obviously, they did not agree with his decision. He was seated in his chamber in the first floor when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Bran called, turning his chair toward the visitor. Maester Luwin entered, his hands folded behind his back.

"Lord Bran," he greeted, nodding. "It's about your good-sister. She's in labor."

Bran gasped in surprise. "Already? I thought she wasn't due until next month!"

Maester Luwin bore a grim expression on his face. "I believe the birth will be problematic and highly dangerous for both mother and child. I will need all assistance I can get."

Bran nodded. "I will send a raven to Torhen's square and have them send all the maesters they can spare."

"Thank you my lord. But I was hoping for your observation as well. There is a lot to learn by watching."

"I doubt Lady Talla will want me in the birth room. It's best to leave the delivery to the educated."

Maester bowed politely. "If it pleases my lord. I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our lessons to after the babe's arrival."

Bran nodded, slightly relieved. He was too worked up to concentrate on his studies anyway. He wanted his sister back more than anything in the world.

"Maester Luwin?" he asked just as the old man was about to exit.

"Yes my lord?"

"How many more guards can we spare?"

The old man hesitated. "Not many. A handful at the most. Why, what do the young lord intend to do?"

"I want to find my sister," Bran said tiredly. "I cannot sleep nor eat as long as she is missing. Now that she's no longer safe at Castle Black, I am too worried to sit quietly by and wait."

"Winter's coming. The forest is full of dangers. I do not think this is wise, Bran."

"I do not know what else to do," he admitted. "She is my sister and I have no idea of where she is."

Maester Luwin sat down by his desk, folding his hands in his lap. "Bran, listen to me. I do not mean to be cruel by saying this, but you will have no more luck finding her than the guards you sent had. Your handicap will only slow you down. You are more use at Winterfell than you are in the woods. Someone needs to inform the rest of your family of what's going on, and right now that is your task."

Bran sighed, hiding his face in his palms. He missed his sister terribly, and knowing there was nothing he could do to bring her back drove him mad.

"I need to return to the birth room, my lord. I will have a steward give you frequent updates."

"Thank you, maester. Do your best to save my brother's wife and their child."

* * *

Gendry

They were not fed for two days straight, and with the little they had eaten before being captured, Gendry and Arya were positively starving. Borin would take them out once a day so they wouldn't do their business in inside the tent, but other than that, they were cramped together in a corner, only entertained by Borin's mocking japes. Gendry's foot cramped up by the lack of use and, made it hurt more than it had since the maester had cut his skin off.

"I'm really sorry for getting you into this," Arya whispered to him the fourth day. Gendry wanted to laugh out loud by the irony; had he only managed to save her when he had the chance, they would be halfway to Wintefell by now.

"Do you think we'll ever get out of this alive?" he asked, ignoring Borin's loud snores. Arya scoffed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Of course we will. We've survived this far, haven't we?" she tried to smile, but he recognized the frustration behind it. She was scared, just like him.

"Some adventure," he said dryly.

"Some adventure," Arya agreed.

They sat in silence for a while, finding comfort in the others company. He could almost feel the little fat she had on her body melt away by the lack of food, and wondered how long she would manage to stay conscious without neutrition. Gendry was bigger built, and much stronger than she was and his childhood in poverty came to his advantage. He was used to being hungry. But Arya grew up in a castle; she had been well fed all her life – being hungry had to be completely new to her.

"What if we die?" she suddenly asked.

Gendry sighed, feeling his skin crawl by her sudden change of heart. "Don't say that, Arya."

"We're young still. We have our whole lives ahead of us – it shouldn't end here. It can't."

Gendry felt his courage shatter. She had given up. The girl with the will of steel had given up on life.

"Stop talking. Save your strength. We'll get out of here, just wait and see."

But the days went by and all they were given was a cup of water a day to share. They were growing weaker and weaker, and soon it was difficult to tell the difference between sleep and consciousness. He did not know if it was day or night, and frankly did not care anymore. He was too tired to care. His whole body ached, his head throbbed and his breathing was heavy and hoarse. One did not need to be a genius to know they would not make it for much longer.

"A-arya?" he asked when he believed she was awake. He could feel her move beside him, and suddenly, something was clutching his hand. He recognized the soft, little fist of hers and wrapped his hand around it. If he was to die, at least he would die next to the woman he loved. Arya Stark. Lady of Winterfell. The girl who wanted to be a knight.

"Gendry?" her voice was thin and rasped. "I love you."

He wondered if it was only a dream, but decided it did not matter. It would be the last memory of her, hearing her say those three words. To him - She loved him.

* * *

Arya

She awoke by the sound of hooves. Her whole body felt as numb as her mind. Every pain and worry was long forgotten. Sudden shouts and cheers pierced her ears, making her shiver. She heard a man's voice yell before she drifted back to sleep.

She was being carried. She did not know by who or to where, but she could feel herself sway back and forth on someone's shoulder. When she opened her eyes, she stared down at the snowy ground. She caught a glimpse of a pair of leather boots before blackness surrounded her again. _Nymeria,_ she thought.

It was dark. She could smell the scent of broth and meat, making her insides wretch. She tried to move, but could not find the strength to do so. Someone was touching her hair, her shoulders, poking her with something. A finger perhaps? Or a stick. She wanted to push it away, to make it stop, but was unable.

"I need her alive," someone said; A woman's voice with a thick accent. "Get some food in her you fools. What good is she to me dead?"

Arya felt something liquid touch her lips and some of the hot broth poured down her throat. She was about to wretch it back up when a hand covered her mouth, forcing her to swallow everything.

"Where's Stannis?" the woman asked. "Is he still with the boy?"

"Yes," a man answered.

"Make sure the girl lives. If she dies, so do you."

Arya was served more of the hot liquid and soon she welcomed the food hungrily. It had been days, perhaps weeks since her last meal. She was given water and wine, but when the woman feeding her asked if she wanted some meat, Arya felt completely drained of strength, and let unconsciousness swallow her again.

* * *

Gendry

Gendry was tied up to a pole in the middle of the camp. He was surrounded by the knights that had captured him, only now they were properly dressed in mail and equipped with arms. A tall man stood in front of him, his arms crossed, his blue eyes narrowed as he studied him from top to toe.

"Who are you?" the man asked. He had a thin layer of coal black hair on the top of his head and hollow cheeks, making him resemble a corpse.

"I-I'm no one," Gendry uttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. The man looked displeased with the answer and nodded to the knight with only one eye, who eagerly slapped his hand across Gendry's face. He shrieked in agony, feeling his sore cheek throb.

"When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer properly!" the man told him in a stern voice. Gendry glared up at him, hatred gleaming in his eyes. He knew who the man was; he recognized him from King's landing. He was King Robert's older brother- Stannis Baratheon.

"Who are you? Where are you from?"

Gendry knew there was a reason to why Tobho sent him away. He could not reveal his true identity; it was not safe. "I'm Gavin. Gavin Snow."

The king snorted. "You're no Snow. I can hear the southern accent of yours. You're a Waters, aren't you?"

"Forgive me. Your grace." Gendry breathed. He was not able to come up with an excuse for his lie. He was too tired, too beaten. The king came closer, stopping only a few inches away from Gendry's bloody face. He reached out and grabbed Gendry's chin, pushing his face upwards.

Gendry recognized Borin as he stepped out of the crowd and bowed before the king. "The boy's name is Gendry, your grace. I believe he is a blacksmith."

The king pursed his lips and removed his hand. "Thank you, Borin." Stannis studied him for several moments, his eyes glued to his.

"You look just like him-"the king said quietly, more to himself than to Gendry. "Who is your father, boy?"

Gendry jerked away from the king's grip. "I don't know."

"Are you speaking the truth? You have already served me with nothing but lies, _Gavin_."

"I swear I do not know who my father is. I'm a bastard. An orphan!"

The king backed away, waving for the one eyed knight to come closer. "Make him talk, Terryn."

The knight brought out his dagger and drew it up to Gendry's throat. Gendry closed his eyes, pushing his nerves away. He had to be strong, for Arya.

"What's your parents' name, boy?" Terryn asked, letting his dagger sink through his skin. Gendry clenched his jaw shut, determined not to make a sound; he did not want to give the man the satisfaction of watching him squirm in pain. He was stronger than that.

"I do not know," Gendry said.

"Liar," Terryn sniggered, expanding the cut. "Now, tell me their names, or I'll cut off that pretty little nose of yours."

Gendry felt a rush of panic jolt through him, but still said nothing. He was probably going to die anyway, what did his nose matter?

"How old are you?"

"one-and-twenty."

"Where are you from?"

Gendry hesitated. The king already knew he was from king's landing, lying now would do him no good. "The capital."

The dagger pierced his skin again, but instead of cutting of his nose, he made a deep cut from the corner of his mouth to right under his eye. Gendry groaned from the pain, taking several breaths to calm down.

"Now, what is your parents' name?"

"I swear by the old gods and the new, I do not know!" Gendry yelled, feeling the desperation jolt through him.

"All we need is their names, or I'll go rearrange your lady love's pretty little face!"

"Don't you dare!" Gendry spat, pulling the rope in an attempt to break free. Terryn laughed slyly, pushing Gendry back against the pole.

"Give me their names and I will leave the girl alone. For now."

Gendry sighed. "My mother's name was Emeline, that's all I know," he said through gritted teeth. Terryn smiled, revealing several rotten teeth, before he slized another cut right under the first on his cheek.

"Liar," the man repeated as a wide smile erupted on his lips and revealed his rotten teeth. "Bring the girl."

Gendry felt his heart skip a beat. No, they could not hurt Arya! He had promised Jon he would protect her!

It was a young knight with blonde hair that dragged Arya through the camp and shoved her into the arms of Terryn. But instead of being afraid like any other sane person would be, Arya spat angrily at the knight's face.

"Borin was right," the King sniggered. "This is a feisty one."

The knight seized her arm and pulled her into a tight grip, holding his arm across her torso. Arya's hands clutched the man's arm desperately, but her eyes revealed nothing. She was staring at him, at his cuts with blank, emotionless eyes.

"Now I'm going to ask you again, boy, who is your father?"

Gendry jerked his tied hands in frustration, but the rope was much too strong for him. "I swear it on my life, I do not know!"

Terryn pursed his lips and sighed. "That's too bad, lad." His bloody dagger cut through Arya's skin right under her eyes, threatening to slip and blind her permanently.

"NO!" Gendry shouted as Arya let out a scream. "STOP! DON'T HURT HER!"

Terryn eased the pressure on the dagger, and Arya's face returned to an emotionless mask. "I would not need to ruin her pretty face if you had only told the truth."

"I am telling the thruth! My mother was a bloody whore! My father can be anyone! Just let her go, or else I'll-"

"Or else you'll what? You're tied up, smithy, you can do nothing."

"Let her go," Gendry growled. Blood was streaming from Arya's cut, giving her a grotesque look; at least now she did not look like a lady no more.

"Fine, as soon as you give me one honest answer I will release her. Now, what is a blacksmith from king's Landing doing this far north? Headed for the wall are you? Who are you hiding from?"

"Don't tell him anything!" Arya yelled. Terryn tightened his grip around her, making her gasp for air. "Gendry, don't," she choked out.

Gendry sighed. If he did not give him a satisfying answer, they would give Arya more cuts. He did not want them to ruin her face. He loved her face.

"My apprentice sent me away. He said something about the queen wanting my head on a stake."

"Gendry, NO!"

The King waved the knight away and returned in front of him. "The queen? What would the queen possible want with a bastard as yourself? Unless…" he turned away, stroking his chin. "Tell me, what did your mother look like?"

Gendry shrugged. "She had yellow hair," he said.

"Her eyes?"

"Green?" Gendry was not sure. His mother had died so long ago; it was hard to remember what she looked like.

The king pursed his lips. "Bring me Melisandre."

Terryn left at once.

"Are you the bastard of Robert Baratheon?" King Stannis asked. Gendry's eyes widened in shock.

"I told you, I do not know who my father is."

"For your sake I hope you speak the truth."

* * *

**AN: Now, I have to admit I never really gave Stanning much attention in the books, so I do not know if I have portrayed him correctly. Perhaps people who are fond of him will dislike my version of him, but after he killed Renly I couldn't find it in me to like him. Therefore I chose to make him a somewhat bad guy in this story**.


	21. Chapter 21

**You guys are the best! I love you. **

* * *

Chapter 21

Arya

Arya was half asleep when she heard someone enter the tent she was lying in. The meal had definitely given her some of the strength back, but she still felt too tired to move, and the throbbing pain beneath her eye did not help the matter.

"Is this the girl?" a man's voice asked. Stannis, Arya recognized and kept her eyes shut, pretending to sleep.

"Yes," the woman with the thick accent replied. "She's perfect. Untouched and high-born."

The man scoffed. "She doesn't look very high-born to me."

"This is Arya Stark of Winterfell, my king."

"Arya Stark? Eddard Stark's daughter?"

"Indeed. The youngest one."

"And the boy? Was he telling the truth?"

Arya felt soft fingers brush through her tangled hair. "Yes. His name is Gendry Waters, and he is the eldest bastard of your brother."

Arya had to bite her tongue not to shout in surprise. Gendry, the bastard of King Robert? Could that be?

"The rightful heir," the man stated. "What do I do? Kill him?"

The woman's hand stroke Arya's cheek.

"You needed royal blood, did you not?" Stannis asked. "We've got my brother's bastard, and I need him out of the way."

"Are my king afraid the boy might claim the throne for himself?"

The man snorted. "At this point, nothing surprises me anymore."

"I will have the boy killed, my king, fear not."

"And the girl?" Arya could feel Stannis' gaze upon her.

"She will be killed as well, my king. The gods will be pleased with you for your sacrifices."

Arya listened to their conversation, her heart thumping harder and harder in her chest. They were going to kill Gendry as well. Gendry was the rightful king. Gendry was no low-born smith – he was king!

"We will have the ceremony in the morrow," the woman said. "We will need a large fire, as large as it can get."

Arya chewed the inside of her lip. They were going to burn them alive, she was sure of it. Fire had always seemed like the most horrible way to die, much worse than a clean cut through the neck like her father always killed the deserters from the Wall.

"And a fire you will have. But first someone's got to feed the boy, or he'll die within the night," King Stannis replied. "Have someone tie the girl up outside with him, she looks far too comfortable."

"As you wish, my king."

"And make sure none of the men are foolish enough to put a hand on her, or I will remove it and have them eat it."

She could hear the sound of footsteps, and knew the king had left, just as a pair of new steps entered the tent. Someone gathered her into their arms and carried her – surprisingly gently – through the camp. She dared to open her eyes, the sun stinging them as she did. How many days had it been since they left the Wall? When would the guards from Winterfell arrive? But more importantly, how badly had they hurt Gendry?

When she caught sight of him, she felt her heart jump in guilt. His head was resting on his chest, his face covered with blood. She wanted to kill the person who had done this to him; to revenge what they had done to his pretty face. But she knew she would not get the chance as long as she was tied up like this. Gendry must have heard someone approaching, as his head jerked up and he looked around, his eyes alert. The blonde man carrying Arya put her down beside him, careful to hold her wrists at all times as he tied her to the same pole as Gendry.

"Are you okay?" she asked, no matter how stupid the question was. Of course he was not okay, he had been tortured, cut, beaten.

"You're still alive," he breathed in relief. "You're alive and almost unhurt."

"I'm sorry I can't say the same about you," she whispered. "It's all my fault." He opened his mouth to respond when the man tying her gave Gendry a punch in the nose.

"Shut up!" the knight hissed. Arya could hear a loud crunching nose, and knew his nose were broken. Gendry however, grinded his teeth and put on a brave face. _Stubborn bull_, she thought grimly. _Even close to death he refuses to let people see his vulnerability_. She caught herself envying his courage and felt her throat thicken. He could have done so much with his life – their life. They could have gotten married, moved to some village where Gendry could have his own forge. She could have given him lots of little bull-headed sons and horse-faced girls. Arya no longer cared about becoming a knight; all she wanted was for Gendry to live. She wanted to return to Winterfell, to her lady mother and lord father, to Bran, Robb and Rickon. She wanted Sansa to return as well and become Jory's wife instead of lady of Dorne. She wanted Jon to come back and live with them again. She wanted Nymeria and Lady to be alive and play side by side as they had when they were little pups. Why couldn't it all just go back to normal?

"Eat," a young woman said. Arya recognized her as one of the girls who had fed her back in the tent, and guessed she was one of the witch's maids. The girl had dark hair and brown eyes and was holding a piece of bread in front of Gendry's mouth.

"Give it to her instead," Gendry said, leaning back against the pole, refusing to eat.

"Don't be stupid," Arya contradicted. "I've already eaten. Please, just eat the little they'll feed you. The Gods know we'll need the strength if we ever wish to get out of here."

The maid's eyes widened and she seemed highly uncomfortable overhearing their conversation. But Arya did not care. It did not matter if the girl told Melisandre what she said; there were nothing the witch could do to stop a plan that was not yet made.

"You speak as if we actually have a chance," Gendry spat grimly, taking a big bite of the bread, nearly biting off the girl's fingers.

"We have until tomorrow night," Arya told him. "A lot can happen in one day."

The girl with the dark hair whimpered and shot Arya a pleading look. "Do not talk like that so they can hear you, my lady. Melisandre can see the future in fires, if she suspects anything, she'll know about it."

"What do you mean?" Arya asked. The girl glanced nervously around, edging slightly closer.

"The fire is her friend. It gives her visions if she asks for it, but only then. If she suspects nothing, she'll know nothing." The girl shoved the rest of the bread between Gendry's lips and ran off; her head bent as a shield from the knights' hungry stares.

"She'll help us, I'm sure of it!" Arya whispered to Gendry. "We only need to gain her trust, persuade her."

Gendry sighed. She wanted to kick him for being so indifferent. It seemed as if he had accepted their fate, just like she had a couple of days ago. But seeing the deep cuts on his cheek had given her new vitality, and she was determined to get him out of the mess she had brought him into.

* * *

Bran

He sat outside the birth chamber in his chair, listening to the screams from within. Talla had been in labor for a day already, and was going into her sixteenth hour. Maester Luwin's steward, Phillip, frequently escaped the room to give Bran the promised updates.

"We can see the head, my lord, but I'm afraid that if the child does not come out within the hour, it will die."

Bran nodded. "Thank you, Phillip." He had dreaded that something like this might happen. Robb would be devastated when he returned only to find a gravestone instead of a son or a daughter. He waited for what felt like hours before the steward returned again, a grim expression on his face.

"It does not look promising, my lord. Maester Luwin is going to have to pull the babe out. It is so very small…" the boy was not much older than Bran. His face was pale as snow and he looked as though he might throw up.

When Phillip left him, Bran took a stroll around the empty castle; it seemed as a different lifetime when he would run around the corridors with his siblings, playing with fake swords or simply chase each other. The days had seemed so much shorter and lighter back then. Now, all he did was worry. He worried about his father and Brother in the capital. He worried about Sansa in Dorne, and wished she would be blessed with many healthy babes. He worried about Jon on the Wall, and about how little his lady mother was eating these days. He worried that Talla's child would not live to see the day, but most of all, he worried about Arya. The men he had sent had already reached the wall, but she had been nowhere to be found on their way there. Bran had ordered them to search the woods between Castle Black thoroughly; she couldn't possibly have gotten further south than that.

His thoughts were interrupted by another ear-piercing scream from Robb's chamber. He returned, waiting patiently outside the door. Although the maester had wanted him to watch, Bran did not want to intrude on his good-sister's privacy. His lady mother had stayed by Talla's side from the very beginning, as had Maester Luwin. Phillip were frequently sent home to rest, only to return a few hours later, ready to assist. There were three other maesters from Torrhen's Square in with them, and Bran prayed that they together managed to save the little babe.

As another scream echoed through the empty castle, Bran covered his ears and closed his eyes. It was heartbreaking to know that Talla's pain might be in vain.

Suddenly, someone was thugging at his arms. Bran looked up and saw Phillip in front of him, a large smile plastered on his face and sweat running down his forehead.

"It's a girl, my lord!" he told him excitedly. "A tiny, but living baby girl." Bran felt the joy rush over him, and realized it had been so long since the last time he truly had been happy, he had forgotten how it felt like.

"You can enter, my lord," Phillip said, pushing the door up for him. Bran rolled inside, peering curiously over the edge of the bed where Talla – sweaty and exhausted – was seated with a little bundle in her arms. The babe was crying, stretching its arms into the air, and the new mother rocked it steadily in her arms, tears streaming down her face.

"Isn't she beautiful?" she asked, beaming. Bran rolled closer, looking at his lady mother, who hurried to wipe the tears away from her cheek.

"She looks like you," Bran said with a smile. He caught Catelyn looking at him, and for the first time in months, his mother did not turn away, but reached out to touch his shoulder and gave him a warm smile.

"Have you thought of a name?" she asked, looking down at the smallest babe Bran had ever seen.

Talla bit her lip and stroked the babe's nose. "Atheena," she replied quietly. "It was Robb's favorite."

* * *

Gendry

As the twilight set in, it grew colder in the air, and Gendry could feel Arya tremble behind him. He realized she wore nothing but the woolen tunic Jon had given her on the wall. _Someone must have stolen her cloak_, he thought bitterly. His cloak was gone as well, but he never got cold anyway. He was a giant compared to Arya's tiny figure and warmth never seemed to leave his body.

"Don't think about the cold," he told her under his breath. Arya looked at him, her eyes big and tired.

"It's impossible. I can't feel my toes any longer."

Gendry sighed. "Look, if you can manage to turn you can put your feet under my knees. That way you might regain some warmth." Arya did as he said, and although it looked like a very uncomfortable position, she slid her small feet under his legs and leaned back against the pole.

"That helped," she breathed, forcing a smile. "Thanks."

"Have you come up with a plan yet?" he asked. Arya shook her head and bit her lip like she always did.

"I was hoping you might," she confessed.

Gendry snorted. "We both know you're the clever one. You know what happens when I try to play hero."

Arya scoffed but nodded. "Yeah, you really are a klutz, aren't you?" it felt good hearing her laugh, he didn't even care that it was on his expense. She could make fun of him all she wanted as long as it kept her smiling.

"I'm a smith, not a knight," he said shortly.

Arya snuggled up next to him, as close as she managed to get with the rope holding her back, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Knight or not, I'm glad we met." Her voice was weak but earnest.

"Stop it, Arya," he told her, his heart aching.

"What?"

"You're talking as if you've given up again. You're Arya Stark, you don't give up."

He could see that his words hit a nerve, and she nodded, the stubborn expression returning to her face.

"You're right. We still have the morrow. Anything can happen."

Her hair tickled his cheek as she tried to move even closer. They had to share the little body heat they had, and when he felt her cold forehead against his neck, he realized how much colder she was compared to him.

"Gendry?" she asked, her voice tired.

"Yes?"

"Do you forgive me?"

He looked down at her. It seemed as if she was half asleep, yet he knew she was waiting for his answer.

He leaned his head on top of hers and sighed. "Of course I do, Arya."

He must have fallen asleep at some point, but when he awoke by footsteps coming closer, it seemed as if he had only slept for a few minutes. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized the silhouette of a man – although he was not wearing his armor, Gendry knew he was a knight. It was something about the way he walked that made him certain. The man glanced nervously around, and when only a few feet away, he threw something toward them. It was a dagger that landed only a few inches from Gendry's foot, its blade buried in the snow. Gendry looked around to make certain no one had seen before he pulled the dagger to him with his boot. The movement woke Arya, who gave him a mix of irritated and curios look.

"What is it?" she asked in a hushed voice. Gendry knew better than to reply; they should not earn unwanted attention, or their rescuers effort could be in vain. However, Arya noticed the knife between his legs only seconds after, and a smile erupted on her face. Gendry brought his legs as close to his hands as he could possibly get them, but it was still impossible to reach it. Arya leaned down and caught the dagger with her teeth, before dropping it by his fingers. Gendry hurried to cut over the rope tying his hands together, before slashing the one around his legs in one movement. After Arya was freed, they remained seated for a while, making sure the coast was clear. As their horses were caught, they would have to escape on foot, and with his worsening leg, it would be a slow journey.

"Let's go," she urged and stood up, her feet crumbling slightly by the lack of use. He followed close behind, pain throbbing in his thigh. They ran silently across the camp, and dodged into the dark woods. Neither Arya nor Gendry ever looked back.


	22. Chapter 22

I'm sorry it's been so long since the last update. my days have been packed lately with an inturnship and redecorating my room, but now I'm back at school with nothing to do, soooo. here's the next chapter!

* * *

Chapter 22

Merida

She ran through the snow as quick as her feet could carry her. Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest, and she frequently glanced around to make sure she wasn't being followed. The sound of a branch snapping caught her attention, and she jerked around. When she saw no one, she continued through the blackness, feeling her way with her hands.

She heard him before she saw him. He was whistling, a soft, low whistle that resembled a singing bird, but she knew better; _it was their whistle, their secret signal_. Following the sound, she reached a little stream, completely covered with ice. And there he was, standing on the other side with his hands crossed over his chest and his back leaned against a large tree.

Jarin smiled at her as she approached him. But the smile did not reach his eyes. She could see how worried he looked; nervous.

"We have to hurry," he told her and led her to his horse, tied up in the bushes a little further away. "Merida, my love, don't be afraid."

But she was afraid. She was afraid the witch would realize what had happened and come after them for revenge. What they had done had been folly, but necessary according to Jarin. He had not told her why, but promised he would as soon as they were far away from the King's camp.

They rode until the break of dawn before they found shelter beneath a crooked tree.

"Jarin, please, tell me the meaning of this," Merida urged and sat down next to him, her whole body aching from the long ride. "I understand that the young lady and her companion did not deserve to die, but why would you go against your own king to save them?"

The blonde man wrapped his arm around her, providing her with as much warmth as possible. "I believe I've already told you about my mother, have I not?"

When she shook her head, he continued in a calm voice. "Her name was Emeline and her hair was as yellow as the sun. When I was a babe, she left me with my grandmother while she left for the capital to work in an alehouse. She would visit as often as she could, but as her pay was low and the journey long, I rarely saw her. I was scarcely ten years old when we received a letter from the alehouse owner concerning her death. My mother loved me very much, I know she did, but I was not the only one her heart belonged to."

Merida looked at him, enchanted by the softness of his voice. He was such a good storyteller, she found herself longing for the rest.

"Who?" she asked excitedly. "Who else did she love?"

Jarin let his finger caress the edge of Merida's lips, smiling. "My brother," he said. Merida gasped in surprise. This she had not seen coming.

"Your brother?"

"We did not hear of him before after her death. My grandmother wanted to bring the child to us, but the alehouse owner told us someone had already provided the boy with an apprenticeship with a blacksmith, and who would cheat someone the possibility for such a yearned trade?"

Merida nodded. She was starting to understand where this was going, but found his voice so soothing she let him continue.

"I never met my half-brother - Until two days ago when we arrived with the king to the camp."

"The blacksmith! The king's bastard, is he truly your brother?" she asked eagerly.

Jarin hesitated. "Of course, I can't be completely certain, but the evidence is there! Do you now understand why I had to free them?"

Merida nodded, a small smile erupting on her face. "You could not watch your brother die." She kissed his cheek and ran her fingers through his blonde hair. "Your heart has always been big, my dear Jarin. As big as the love I bare you."

She snuggled up next to him, trying to see the resemblance between the smtih and the man she was hugging, but found nothing. While Jarin was tall and skinny, the smith was broad shouldered and muscular with black hair instead of blonde and his eyes were a deep shade of blue instead of Jarin's green.

"Your brother is as noble as you are. He had not eaten in many days, yet he insisted I gave the bread to Lady Stark instead of him."

Jarin smiled. "I only wish I had the chance to get to know him. I hit him you know. I'm afraid I treated the lady too gently, and gained suspicious looks from the other knights. They never trusted me; always knew I would turn against them someday. So I punched him – broke his nose."

"You only did what needed to be done."

"I know my love, I know. Now sleep, sweet Merida. When the darkness comes, we'll ride to the capital where we will start our new life together."

* * *

Arya

They ran throughout the night, climbing the mountains in the west to find a hiding place. Arya had insisted they returned to where Borin had captured her to find Nymeria's body, but Gendry talked her out of it; they had to get as far away from the camp as possible. They did not stop until the sun was visible in the horizon, and their feet were sore and aching. When they finally found a cave similar to the one they had stayed in while Gendry's foot were too injured to use, they were both out of breath and so tired they fell asleep in an instant. Arya were about to suggest that she'd take the first watch, but her eyelids shut before she could even open her mouth, and judging by Gendry's gentle snores, he was fast asleep as well.

She awoke by sudden movements next to her. Her feet were still aching violently, and she could feel that her toes were covered with blisters. As she turned over, a rush of agony jolted through her thigh. Despite all the exercise she had gotten on the Wall, she was completely drained of strength from the night's escape.

"We need food," she said quietly, keeping her eyes shot. She was afraid to look at Gendry, to see his face and know that he was hurt because of her.

"Arya," he said in a gentle voice. "Arya, look at me."

She sighed and sat up straight, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Do I really look that hideous that you won't even look at me?"

She shook her head, her throat thickening. He wasn't hideous. He never had been; he had had a beautiful face with handsome features. Yesterday his face had been covered in blood, but she reckoned the sweat caused from the night's run had wiped most of it away, and she would see the face she had ruined.

"When will you stop blaming yourself? I know that's what you're doing; that's what you always do. Now, will you open your damn eyes and look at me?"

She bit her lip, opening her eyes slowly. This was her punishment; to look upon his face and feel the guilt cut through her like a knife. The light stung her eyes as she looked around, adjusting to the brightness. And then she turned to him, finally taking in the sight of his cuts. The blood was completely wiped away, and she could clearly see the deep slices on his cheek.

"Oh, Gendry," she sobbed, reaching out to touch the cut. "Seven hells, what more must you be put through?"

Gendry flinched as her fingertips touched the edge of the longest scar.

"It's my fault entirely," she breathed, pulling away. "Everything that has happened is because of me. Look at you- Your face. And your leg! Seven hells, even your throat are hurt. What more did those sons of whores do to you?"

Gendry gave her a grim stare. "Arya, can you stop blaming yourself for everything? The wildlings hurt my leg, not you. Ser Terryn cut my skin open, not you, so just drop it, will you?"

But Arya could not drop it. She was tired, hungry and sad. Gendry's face reminded her of everything she had caused. Gendry was hurt and Nymeria was dead- Because of her. She did not deserve to go back to good old Winterfell. She deserved nothing but to disappear from her family's lives forever. She did not deserve the man in front of her, whom by some strange reason did not seem to hold a grudge against her. She wished he would scold her; yell or scream at her. She deserved that. But Gendry's blue eyes held nothing but affection.

"I found a bird's nest in a tree nearby. Although it tastes like shit, it's better than nothing." He handed her a pair of raw eggs. When Arya did not accept them, he frowned in frustration and sat down next to her.

"Arya, if you do not eat voluntarily, I will force the egg in you somehow. You know I'm a lot stronger than you."

Arya kept her face clear and stared straight forward. She just wanted it to be over. She was tired of the woods – of running. Her mother was right; adventures were not for young ladies.

* * *

Gendry

She refused to eat all day, and when he tried to pour the egg yolk into her mouth, she puked it out only moments later. Gendry felt miserable, and found that the frustration over her reluctance kept his mind off of his aching wounds. They spent the day in the cave, watching the snow dance in the wind. Arya's cold skin told him that she was freezing, but she showed no sign of it. Her eyes were staring straight ahead at the cave wall. He did not know what she was waiting for, or how to snap her out of it, all he knew was that he needed to get her home.

When the darkness returned, Gendry gathered Arya into his arms and started walking.

"What are you-" Arya contradicted, wriggling to get free. But Gendry was strong, and could easily hold her in a tight, inescapable grip.

"I promised your brother I would take care of you, and so I will," he replied stiffly, fighting his way through the thick layer of snow. "I will bring you back to Winterfell or die trying."

To his surprise, his words made Arya sob silently into his chest, her fingers draped in the fabric of his tunic. He let her cry, for as long as she needed. His feet were still tired from the night before, and his thigh ached, but he was determined to keep going. If he kept a steady pace, they could reach their old cave and spend the day there. Hopefully, he would be able to get Arya to eat something. Perhaps he would even start a fire and grill some meat for her, but doing so was risky, especially now when they didn't have any weapons.

Soon enough, Arya was asleep in his arms. Although she was light as a feather, his arms were starting to tire down, and he knew he would have to rest before he killed himself.

He had walked for what felt like an eternity before he put Arya down on a large rock. She stared down on the ground, her arms wrapped around her waist.

"Arya?" he asked. "I beg you; don't let me go through this on my own. I need you here with me -Not only physically, but mentally as well. I need your cleverness, your wit. Do not go blank on me, Arya, or I swear by your gods, I will never forgive you."

He waited, but she remained frozen on the stone, as if she was a part of it. Groaning, he sat down next to her, cupped his chin and forced her to look at him.

"Look at the scars, Arya. Look at them, really look at them. The sooner you get used to them, the better."

Arya tried to pull away from his grip, but he tightened his fingers. Suddenly, he realized he was probably hurting her and let go. "Dammit, Arya."

He buried his face in his hands, breathing sharply through his nose. He knew he wouldn't be able to carry her all the way back to Winterfell, but he didn't know what else to do. Had they only had a horse, he could have led it by his hands through the mountains and they would be back at Winterfell in a matter of days. But their horses were gone, as was Nymeria. It was only the two of them left, but Arya had already disappeared from her mind. _She's hiding_, he realized. _She's hiding from her guilt_.

"Think about your lady mother. Think about Lord Stark and Robb and Bran and Rickon. They are all waiting for your return. Think about Sansa in Dorne, who can't wait for the day when you visit her new castle." He rubbed her arms quickly, trying to transfer some warmth to her trembling body. "Think about Talla's baby. You can teach the babe to fight with swords and shoot with bows, but in order to do so you have to come back to me. Arya, do you hear me?

He thought he saw something flicker in her eyes, and when she nodded, it was so scarcely he barely noticed it. "Come back, Arya, so we can return to Winterfell – together."

She nodded again, a single tear escaping her eyes.

"Good," he breathed. "Good." He framed her face with his hand and kissed her lips lightly, relief flushing over him. She was still there.

* * *

a little mushy perhaps, but I felt the need to make Gendry the strong one for once. hehe. hope you liked it.


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: I just finished the whole story! YAY! I've been writing all day, and finally - 30 chapters! So I decided to post a new chapter immidiately to celebrate. Enjoy R&R**

* * *

Chapter 23

Fendrel

They had been looking for Lady Stark for weeks without any luck, and the fifty men were growing tired. Fendrel, who had been assigned as the captain of guards after Jory left for the capital with Lord Stark, was starting to lose hope. However, he knew they ought not to return without any trails of Lord Bran's little sister, or they'd immediately be sent out to look for her again.

They had passed King Stannis' camp on their way to the wall, and was about to ride past it again on their way back. He had sent one of his men to speak to one of the king's guards and ask for the young Lady, but they had not seen her or her companion. So Fendrel and his men were left searching the woods for any trail of her, but neither she nor the horses Lord Commander Snow had sent with them were to be found. As they passed the King's camp, they could hear the sound of kissing steel and men shouting at each other. Whether it was for practice or a real fight, Fendrel was happy he was not a part of it. They rode until the darkness surrounded them before they made camp by a crooked tree. To everyone's dismay, they were starting to run out of food and usually ate nothing but soup and bread for every meal.

Fendrel ate his little share before putting his sleeping fur at the edge of the group. As the captain of guards, he preferred to lay closer to the luring dangers in case anyone were to attack them, but no one in their right minds would attack a company of fifty armored men. They had been left alone for the whole journey, much to Fendrels' relief.

But when he was half asleep, he awoke by a sudden sound from the woods next to them. Drawing his sword from his belt, he stepped through the snow and followed what sounded like snoring. A flicker of hope formed itself in his mind; perhaps it was Lady Arya and her friend he heard? But the idea died as quickly as it had come to him. It would almost be too good to be true.

He tip-toed through the trees, but stopped abruptly as he heard a man speak. He had a gentle voice – low, but soft, almost like a child's. Fendrel concealed himself behind a large tree trunk, his sword at ready.

"Merida, do not weep, my love. We will hide until the guards are gone. They did not see us, we are still safe."

Fendrel could hear a woman's sobs as he scooted closer to the sound. Although it was not the couple they were looking for, the man sounded as harmless as a sheep.

"Just be quiet, dear, or someone might hear us. It's a shame the wildlings killed our horse, or we could have ridden off before they noticed our presence."

The woman's sobs grew louder, and now the man was shushing her loudly to shut her up. Fendrel decided to make his acknowledge his presence and stepped out of the shadows. The woman screamed, just as the man put his hand over her mouth and strangeled it.

"He's alone," the man observed. "What do you want, knight?"

"I am no knight," Fendrel told them in a soft voice, kneeling beside them. "I am a guard of Winterfell. My men and I are searching for Lady Arya Stark and a young man in her company. Perhaps you have seen her?"

The couple exchanged looks, both nodding hesitantly. Fendrel felt his heart leap with joy. This was the closest they had ever been to finding the young lady.

"Tell me," he urged.

"In the king's camp," the woman started her voice thin. "They were to be sacrificed to the red woman's gods."

Fendrel's hope was crushed as quickly as it had lightened up. Arya Underfoot was dead -Sacrificed, none the less.

"We-"the man started, but froze, terror flickering across his face. "I mean, someone let her and the smith escape."

"Tell me more," Fendrel demanded.

The woman looked at the man. "It was in the night, scarcely a day ago. They ran on foot – to the mountains in the west. I saw them when I-"

"Do not say more, Merida!" the man snapped. The woman crumbled under his gaze.

"The mountains you say?" Fendrel stood up, eager to continue their journey.

"Please good ser, do not reveal our hiding place to anyone," the man begged. Fendrel hesitated, but nodded. He was so grateful for this new information; he could kiss them on their lips– the woman and man both.

"I will ask no questions and therefore have nothing to tell. I thank you for your honesty and wish you luck on your road ahead. Do you have a horse?"

"We had, but the wildlings killed it."

"And not you?"

The man gritted his teeth. "I killed them," he admitted. Fendrel gave the man a suspicious look, before noticing the sword fastened to his belt.

"You're a knight," he stated. The man stood up, his hand around his sword.

"I thought you were not to ask questions."

Fendrel rubbed his beard. "I did not ask, I confirmed. Not to worry, ser. Let me and my men escort you and your lady safely to Winterfell as a symbol of our gratitude. We have been searching the woods for Lady Stark and her friend. Come with us, and your lady can have a horse to ride."

The couple exchanged happy looks and embraced each other. "We would be most honored to, my friend," the knight said. Fendrel led them to the camp and ordered every guard to wake up from their sleep. The sooner they found Arya, the sooner they could return to Winterfell.

They rode for the rest of the night, searching the hills for any trails of the runaways, but found nothing. Fendrel ordered the men to split up two and two, which would give them the opportunity to cover a wider area. Ser Jarin and Merida accompanied Fendrel to the top of the mountains, and as dawn approached, they could almost see the whole way to Winterfell from there.

"Do you see them?" he asked Merida, who shook her head. The woman was not used to riding a horse, and clutched her arms around Jarin's waist to prevent herself from sliding off.

"We should search for caves," Jarin said. "That's where I would have hidden had I been traveling through the mountains."

They did as he had suggested, and studied every cave they came over for trails after the young Lady and the smith, but found nothing.

"Do you think they got further than this?" Merida asked skeptically. "They were traveling by foot and with the smith's injured leg I'm sure they didn't get very far in one night."

Fendrel had thought the same thing, and turned his horse to ride back north. "Arya!" he called, ignoring Jarin's warnings about wildlings and savages.

"Arya underfoot!" perhaps the use of her nickname would make her come out from hiding. He did not know why, but he had the feeling the runawyas were somewhere close, too scared to reveal their hiding place.

"Gendry!"

"This is Fendrel Cassel, son of Rodrik, calling for you. My men and I were sent by Lord Bran to bring you home."

No reply. Except for the echoes rooming through the mountains, the hills were completely silent.

"You need not fear me my lady. I am, and always have been, loyal to your father."

"I do not think she's here," Jarin said grimly. Fendrel sighed. Just when he had thought they were so close, but Arya's whereabouts were still a mystery. They started to ride back down when a rumble of stones caught his attention.

"Stop," he ordered the others. Jarin jerked his horse around and looked expectantly at him.

"I heard something," Fendrel told him, jumping of his horse while drawing his sword. He walked to the place where the rocks had rolled and noticed to his surprise a hidden cave impossible to see from above.

"Lady Arya?" he called. Someone moved inside, and suddenly, a mane of short, bushy brown hair peeked out from the entrance of the cave. Her eyes widened by the sight of him, and she seemed confident enough to step outside.

"Fendrel!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "Seven hells, I've never been so happy to see anyone before!"

"Where is the smith?" he asked. Arya pulled away, her face suddenly serious. He noticed a nasty cut beneath her eye and shrugged by the thought of how it had gotten there.

"His leg-"she ran back to the cave, urging him to follow. "He was carrying me through the snow when he slipped and fell to the ground. His scar were reopened – he can't move his leg." Her voice shook as she crouched down beside a lifeless person. Fendrel almost didn't recognize the man with the large scars covering half of his face, but the black hair and blue eyes were unmistakable.

"I tried to stop the bleeding, but it just won't stop," Arya choked out, tears filling her eyes. "He needs a maester as soon as possible."

The young man mumbled something Fendrel did not hear, but Arya leaned over him, her ear by his mouth. "Yes," she exclaimed happily, stroking the man's unwounded cheek. "Yes, Gendry, we're saved."

Fendrel managed to size Gendry by his torso and lift him over his shoulder as he crawled out of the cave. On the outside, Jarin stood ready to receive him and pushed the smith on top of his horse, behind Merida, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Is he okay?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"He needs a maester," Fendrel told her and lifted Arya onto his horse easily. He could feel her ribs poke out of her skin and felt a shiver down his spine. As if the girl had not been skinny before, she looked nothing but a corpse now.

They gathered the men, who all seemed lost for words by the sight of Arya, and headed home for Winterfell.

* * *

Ned

He had been in King's Landing for more than six months, and had gathered more than enough information to confirm that Gendry Waters were indeed the king's bastard. If Robert had still been alive, Ned would have asked if he even knew about the boy. But Robert had never been very honorable, and would probably not have cared if he had known. Tobho Mott had told him that an anonymous lord had paid for the boy's apprenticeship, and no matter where Ned looked, all evidence pointed toward Varys. When he had confronted the eunuch however, he had denied everything. No matter what Varys wanted with the smith, he intended to keep it a secret for now.

Ned was growing tired of the hunt that didn't seem to make any more progress, and had decided to lay it on ice for a while. He wanted to return to Winterfell and see his granddaughter – he wanted Robb to see his first born, but his son refused to go before Ned went with him.

They left King's Landing by the break of dawn. The ride would take a month, and Ned could sense his son's restlessness as he rode next to him. No matter how much he looked forward to meeting his family again, he kept thinking about Robert's bastard, and what to do with all the information he carried. He knew that the boy's mother was a commoner from Storm's end called Emeline, and suspected her relationship with Robert had started long before he ever became king. Even before Lyanna were betrothed to the eldest Baratheon son. Ned had also learned that the girl had another son – another bastard. The lad had been raised in Storm's end with his grandmother and as far as Ned was concerned, he knew nothing about his natural brother.

The boy was the rightful heir to the throne, but Ned knew what that kind of power could do to someone; he had witnessed the change in Robert himself. It was a dangerous life, full of conspiracies and politics, and Ned doubted the young smith wanted any part of it. But he had the right to know, and Ned would tell him when the time was right. Perhaps the boy could be legitimized and have a castle of his own to rule. But one needed a king to legitimize a bastard, and neither Joffrey nor Stannis nor Renly would ever risk their position as a king to make a low-born bastard a lord. No, Ned suspected his journey to the capital had all been in vain; when neither Emeline nor Robert was alive, no one could prove that Gendry really was their son. Despite the obvious evidence of his appearance, Ned was afraid he had nothing useful.

If only Robert had still been alive, Ned could have told him that Cercei's children were not his, and that his rightful heir was hitting anvils in some forge. But the Robert that sat on the iron throne would probably not have given a shit about his bastard. After beheading Cercei and Jaime both, and sending their children away, he would have gotten drunk and fucked another whore – bringing yet another bastard into this world. But then who would have inherited the iron throne after his death? Ned decided that anyone were better suited as a king than King Joffrey.

They had ridden for half a day when they were stopped by a group of gold cloaks. Weary, Ned forced his horse forward to speak with them.

"What brings the city watch so far from King's landing?" he asked, although he had his suspicions.

"The king wants a word with you, lord Stark," one of the men said. "We are to bring you back to the capital immediately."

Ned nodded. He had seen this coming, although he doubted it was the king that wanted to speak to him. No, it all reeked of Cersei.

"I will of course return at once if that is the king's wish," Ned said.

"Father!" Robb's horse approached him in quick gallop. "I'll come with you."

Ned could see the terror across his son's face. He was a clever boy, Robb. He too must have anticipated that they would not be left in peace after digging into the old king's early years.

"No, Robb. It is me they want. Go home while you have the chance. Go home to your daughter."

Robb shook his head determinedly. "I am not leaving without you," he said stubbornly. Ned smiled and squeezed his son's shoulder.

"Don't worry, son. I have done nothing wrong – they cannot convict me for anything. I'll only be a few days behind you. Take your men and return to Winterfell. Your wife has been much too long without you already."

"What about _your_ wife?" Robb asked through clenched teeth.

Ned forced a smile. "Go, Robb. That's an order."

Jory and a couple of other men followed Ned and the gold cloaks back to King's Landing, while Robb continued his journey homewards with the other half of the guards.

Although he knew what was coming for him, Ned was not afraid. The important thing was that his family was safe – that was the only thing that truly mattered.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Arya

Arya slept for several days straight. With her hands clutched tight around Fendrel's waist atop of his horse, she allowed herself to relax and sleep. Neither she nor Gendry was in danger anymore; although he had lost a large amount of blood, Melisandre's maid, Merida had patched him back together and assured everyone that he would be okay. They rode all day and night, and barely stopped to rest. After searching for her for nearly a month, they were all eager to return to Winterfell.

When Arya finally felt strong enough, she was allowed to ride a horse on her own. The guards had made a carriage of wood and breaches were Gendry lay. Arya knew that if he had been conscious long enough to speak, he would have demanded to be set on a horse instead of being pulled after one like a cripple. She rode behind him, watching him closely where he lay with several layers of fur draped around him. Merida told her he had a fever when they found them, and that he needed to sweat the fever from his body. He seemed better now, though, although he refused to eat or drink. Merida assured her he was in no immediate danger. Arya was not consoled, though. Every time the group stopped to rest, she would crouch down on the ground beside Gendry and beg him to eat something. But he never obeyed.

It was on the second day after their rescue that she realized it had been Jarin and Merida who had saved them that night. Had it not been for them, Gendry and she would have been dead now. Arya felt the need to thank them every time she saw them, but no matter how many times she asked them why, she never got a satisfying answer.

On the fourth day of their journey back to Winterfell, Merida decided that Gendry would not make it back if he did not eat something, but as he was too weak to eat by himself, she cooled some soup and spoon-fed him, much like she had done to Arya back in King Stannis' camp. The blacksmith spat most of the soup out, but the little he ate made a miraculous difference. In a matter of hours, he was able to sit straight and answer a few of the many questions Arya asked him.

"How is your leg?" she asked.

Gendry sighed. "I can hardly feel the pain anymore," he admitted. Arya did not know whether that was a good or bad thing; perhaps he had lost the use of his leg completely? Perhaps he would have to use a chair like Bran did.

Merida kept trying to tempt him with food, but Gendry turned it all away.

"Gendry, you have to eat," she told him and placed a piece of bread in his palm. As soon as the maid was gone, Gendry offered the bread to Arya.

"You stupid, bull-headed man,"Arya spat. "Don't you understand that if you don't eat soon, you will only get worse?"

"Relax, I feel fine," he assured her. Arya crossed her arms and scowled at him.

"How many days has it been since they rescued us?" she asked him. Gendry pursed his lips and looked around thoughtfully.

"Three days?"

"Eat, god dammit. It's been five days, but you've been unconscious most of them. Now, eat before I knock your teeth out!"

Reluctantly, Gendry brought the bread to his mouth and took a bite, groaning from the pain caused by his broken nose. When finished, Arya gave him a pleased smile and rolled out her sleeping fur next to him.

"We'll be home soon," she sighed. "Fendrel said it was only a couple of more days riding, and then we'll be home at Winterfell."

She looked at Gendry, whose face was stiff and dark. "It never really was my home though, was it?"

She could hear the bitterness in his voice, but just as she was about to reply, he was already fast asleep.

* * *

Bran

Bran was watching baby Atheena when Luwin entered the nursery, a large smile on his face.

"Robb is returning," he said cheerfully. "He left King's Landing a week ago."

Talla gave a squeal of happiness and gathered the babe into her arms. "Your father is coming to see you, my love. Yes, he is," she sang and kissed the babe's nose. Catelyn turned to maester Luwin.

"And Ned?" she asked. Bran could hear the weariness in her voice.

"Lord Stark remained in the capital I'm afraid."

Catelyn nodded, forcing a smile. "At least one of my men will return soon." She tried to sound happy, but Bran could hear the sadness in her words. "Excuse me," she said and left.

Neither Talla nor the maester seemed to have noticed Lady Catelyn's sudden departure, but was talking eagerly about the babe's progress. As it had been born much too early, it had been very small and fragile, but as the days went by, the child was growing bigger and bigger.

"I think her hair is starting to curl," Talla stated, fingering a lock of her daughter's auburn hair.

"She is beautiful," the maester said with a smile. "Your husband will be very pleased."

Talla looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you sure? What if he's disappointed she's not an heir?"

Bran rolled to her, seizing her hand. "Don't worry, Talla. You will have many more opportunities to honor him with a little lord. Robb will love his daughters as much as his sons, I assure you."

Talla gave him a grateful smile just as Atheena gave a ear-piercing scream. "It's time for her dinner," she said.

Bran nodded and left along with maester Luwin.

"I received another letter as well, my lord. It is from Fendrel."

Bran jerked the letter out of his hand, slightly irritated he had kept it to himself. As he unrolled the piece of paper, his heart throbbed expectantly in his chest.

"What does it say?" Luwin asked.

Bran read through it. Then reread it to make sure he had understood correctly. "They found her," he breathed, reading the letter once more.

"They've got her! Fendrel found Arya!" if he could still use his legs, he would have jumped up and down in excitement. "Maester Luwin, they found her!"

"They found Lady Arya?" Luwin asked, flabbergasted.

"She's safe! She's alive! Call for mother, tell Talla and Rickon!" he was so happy it felt like he was floating as he hurried down the stairs on the special ramp his father had built for him.

"Mother! Rickon!" he yelled as loud as he could. He found Catelyn in the great hall where she was talking to one of the servants.

"Mother, she's been found! Arya's safe, they are on their way home!"

Catelyn stared at him, her mouth ajar. "Arya?" she asked stupidly.

He rolled to her, a great smile on his face. "She's unharmed, mother. Fendrel writes they will return in a matter of days."

Catelyn gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "She's coming back," she sighed, her shoulders shaking. "Arya's coming back!"

Bran could clearly see the tears streaming down his mother's face as she bent down to give him a hug. "Prepare a feast at the night of her return. Invite every person in Winterfell!"

Suddenly, Rickon came through the door, his face red and sweaty. "What is going on? Masetsre Luwin said I had to come at once."

"Your sister is coming back," Catelyn smiled, embracing her youngest son.

Bran thought it best if he where the one to bring the news to Mikken and his wife, and did not wait long before he rolled over the yard and to the forge. As it was impossible for him to get upstairs without help, Bran asked Mikken to fetch his wife as he had news concerning both of them.

Myra's face was draped with misery as she emerged the stairs, staring at him. "Is it about Gendry?" she asked, clutching her hands together. "He's not dead, is he? Please tell me he's not dead." Her pleading voice gave Bran shivers down his spine. Mikken wrapped a protective arm around his wife's waist his face emotionless.

"He's not dead," Bran blurted out, eager to wipe Myra's worry off her face. "As a matter of fact, he's been found."

Myra gave a gasp of joy, embracing her husband tightly. "He's alive, dear!"

Although he tried to remain cool, Mikken could not hide the relief flushing over his face.

"He and my sister will return in a few days," Bran told them with a smile. Myra was so excited she gave him a hug, laughing happily into his ear.

"Thank you, my lord. Thank you so much!"

Catching herself, she pulled away with a flabbergasted face. "I'm sorry-"

"Not to worry, Myra. I can understand your relief. However, there is one thing you ought to know before Gendry's return."

Myra returned to her husband's side, clutching his arm. "Is he hurt?"

"I'm afraid he is – I do not know how severe his wounds are, but if he was in life-danger I know Fendrel would have written so in the letter he sent."

The blacksmith's wife gave a little squeal and brought her hands to her mouth. "I hope you're right, my lord. We are very fond of the boy."

"I am sorry to bring such news to you, but I thought you deserved to hear it from me. There will be a feast on the night of their return – all of Winterfell is invited. However, I do understand if you'd rather spend it with Gendry."

"We appreciate your kindness, my lord," Myra said, her voice shaking slightly.

Bran nodded and left them to their happiness and grief. He wished he had known more about Gendry's injuries, but Fendrel had not told him much. Pleased by knowing that Gendry had a home to return to, Bran went back to the castle to celebrate with his family. They were all waiting patiently for their sorely missed daughter and sister.

* * *

Arya

Arya felt her heart leap of joy when she recognized the familiar surroundings; They were getting closer to Winterfell! Fendrel promised they would be there in the morrow if they kept riding throughout the night. No one was more eager to continue than Arya. Despite her sore body and heavy eyelids, she wanted to come home. But the night felt like an eternity and she was certain time was moving backwards.

Gendry was getting stronger and his appetite had improved remarkably since Arya forced him to eat. Fendrel finally let him mount a horse again, as Gendry felt too proud to be lying in a stretcher, dragged through the snow like some infant. Arya was pleased to see that he and Jarin was getting along rather good, much to her surprise. As long as she had known him, Gendry had never really had friends. Except for her, of course. But then again, she didn't have many friends either. Apart from Jeyne Poole, whom only made fun of her, there were rather few girls her age at Winterfell. Those she had known when she was younger, had been sent away to get married.

However, Arya found great company in her new companion, Merida. She was a farmer's daughter from Storm's end and had grown up alongside Jarin. When he was made one of the king's knights, he recommended her as a maid to the king's mistress. Merida, thrilled to live in the castle learned that Melisandre was not only a beautiful woman with red eyes, but a witch. Too afraid to escape, she went with them as they headed for the wall. "I never would have made it without Jarin," Merida confessed. "He gave me courage when I was afraid, and assured me that one day we would put the evil behind us and start a new life together."

Arya smiled. She enjoyed listening to Merida's stories. Her life was so different from Arya's. She had the opportunity to choose her own husband without caring how low-born he was. In some way, Arya envied her; she would rather grow up in a farm, working hard for a living than learn to sew and dance and speak properly. But then again, she wouldn't have gotten the chance to learn from the great dancing master had she been poor, and Winterfell was her home. Winterfell. The thought that by this time tomorrow, she would be sleeping in a bed was thrilling, and a jolt of longing rushed through her. It would have been perfect if only Nymeria had been there to share her bed. But Nymeria was dead, probably eaten by crows, and Arya would never have another wolf dream again.

"Fendrel said we are allowed to stay in Winterfell,"Merida said, throwing her dark hair behind her shoulder. "Is the castle beautiful, my lady?"

Arya nodded, her chest swelling with pride. "You will love it!"

"Is there need for a new maid at the castle? Perhaps I could work for you," Merida suggested with hopeful eyes, but Arya shook her head, earning a disappointed look from her companion.

"You are my friend, Merida. It would not be right for me to give you orders. But perhaps my mother is in need of one. Or Talla – or even the babe when it arrives. Do you like children?"

Merida's lips twisted into a large smile. "I adore them. I have five younger sisters back home, so I do know rather much about babes."

"Don't worry, Merida. I will make sure to find a suitable position for you."

"And Jarin? He said he wished to be a guard to your lord father."

Arya smiled, pleased to know that her knew friends were planning on staying in Winterfell, at least for a little while. "He will be, I swear."

"If it's not too bold to say, my lady, Gendry is a very brave and kind man."

Arya nodded. "Indeed he is."

"But as I understand it, you are betrothed to another?" Merida's dark eyes met Arya's gray. Biting her lip, Arya nodded reluctantly.

"But I refuse to marry him. That is why I left Winterfell to begin with."

"You would rather marry the smith then?" Merida asked earnestly. Arya looked down at her hands, hesitating. Although every bone in her body knew that her family would be very displeased with her if she did decide to marry beneath her kin, it was Gendry she wanted.

"Yes," she admitted with a whisper.

Merida leaned over the gap between their horses and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. "I understand disappointing your family must be difficult, but living without love seems even worse, don't you agree?"

Arya forced a smile. "Perhaps I won't have to disappoint my family after all. If what the witch said is true Gendry is the rightful heir to the throne."

"I did not realize you wanted to become a queen, my lady."

Arya snorted. "Nor do I; the only thing worse than being a lady, is being a queen. I am just saying that how can my parents disapprove of someone with royal blood?"

Merida smiled widely. "You are very clever, my lady."

"Please, do not call me 'my lady'. I am no more a lady than you are, Merida. As a matter of fact, I believe you would make a better lady than I ever did."

"It is in your blood, Arya. You cannot deny who you are. Yes, you can hide, but in the end, you must embrace who you are and make the best out of it."

Arya sighed. Merida was right; she was a lady of Winterfell, not a knight. It was her duty to marry a lord and rule a castle. But Arya was not one to follow directions. She refused to be bossed around by anyone, including her lady mother. She would marry Gendry, with or without Catelyn's approval.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Bran

They were all gathered in the great hall, waiting expectantly. If Fendrel's letter had been correct, the company would return tonight. Catelyn had invited every inhabitant of WInterfell to come celebrate with them, and the atmosphere was happier than in a long time. Bran caught a glimpse of Mikken and Myra as he rolled his way through the crowd and to his seat at the high table. They were dressed in their finest garments and sat alone, talking with no one but each other. _They're nervous_, Bran realized. Perhaps they blamed themselves for Gendry's disappearance.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" one of the servants asked, holding up a silver jug.

"No, thank you," Bran replied, keeping his eyes on the crowd beneath. They were all drinking, laughing and singing. He could not remember ever seeing the people of Winterfell so happy since the night of Robb's wedding. Glancing at his mother, he saw that she was fidgeting with her hands clasped in her lap.

"Mother, would you care to join me on the balcony? Mayhaps we can catch a glimpse of them as they ride over the hills."

Catelyn turned to him, her lips twisting into a small smile. "Thank you, Bran," she whispered and followed him as he rolled through the great hall.

"What if they encountered any dangers on the way?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her waist to shield herself from the cold night.

"Don't worry, mother. They will be here, I can feel it."

Except for the muffled noise from the great hall, the night was completely quiet.

"Have you declined her betrothal to Dickon yet?" asked Bran. Catelyn rubbed her neck uncomfortably.

"You haven't!" his voice was much harsher than he had meant it to be, but he was so dejected he was unable to control his anger. "You do realize that is the reason she ran away in the first place, don't you? If she learns that you still mean for her marrying Dickon, she won't stay long before she takes off again."

"Perhaps some part of me hopes she has had a change of heart on her journey," Catelyn replied quietly.

"It's Arya."

Sighing, Catelyn sat down on the stone bench underneath the diamond shaped window. "I ought to force her into that marriage, just like I was when I was her age. This runaway of hers was folly and she ought not to get her way because of it."

"Your persuasion might have worked on Sansa, but Arya is much more stubborn. You have already ruined one of your daughter's lives, isn't that enough?"

He could have punched himself for uttering those last words. Although it was true, he had not intended to bring it up. Especially not now when Arya would return in a matter of hours. Catelyn stared at him, gaping.

"How dare you?" she hissed through grinded teeth. "I am your mother and you ought not to speak to me like that!"

"I'm simply telling the truth," Bran said. "Sansa wanted to marry Jory – she loved him, but you made her throw that love away for a castle. I refuse to stand by and watch you do the same with Arya."

"If you believe I will let my youngest daughter marry some blacksmith you are mistaken!"

"Then prepare yourself for a life without Arya, because she will not marry Dickon, and if you try to force her to do anything against her will, she will run away again."

Catelyn's face turned pale and without another word, she turned in her place and stomped back into the castle. Bran sighed and turned back to look over the hills surrounding the castle. He stared until his eyes turned watery, but not even then did he see the group of guards bringing his sister back home. He was about to return inside when a flickering light caught his attention. Narrowing his eyes, he saw it again – dancing through the woods. It was them! It had to be them!

His heart leapt of joy as he rolled back to the great hall and bellowed from the top of his lungs, "I saw them! They are here! I saw them on the hill!"

The great hall fell silent and every eye was looking at him. "Well, let's go greet them in the yard!" someone shouted. The crowd moved toward him like a flock of sheep, and Bran had to swing his chair away not to get trampled down. He saw his lady mother emerging the stairs and joining the inhabitants. Obviously, she had heard what he had shouted all the way to her chamber. Rickon and Talla exited the great hall last, arm in arm. Ever since Rickon and Catelyn's return, Talla had grown very fond of the youngest Stark and thought he reminded her of Dickon, her little brother. They waited in silence until a guard in the watch tower announced the group's arrival. Bran looked over at Myra, who was clutching her husband's arm expectantly, her expression a mixture of worry and excitement.

As the north gate opened, and a long line of riders entered, the crowd waiting started cheering. Bran rolled onto a plateau to get a better look, and when he caught a glimpse of his big sister, his heart stopped. He did not recognize her at first; her hair was cut short and she was even skinnier than she had been before she left, but when she looked at him, her big gray eyes meeting his, he was in no doubt. Arya was back!

* * *

Arya

She had barely gotten her foot on the ground when she was surrounded by people, all trying to pull her into a tight embrace. Tip-toeing she tried to see over the crowd, but in vain; the people around her pulled her down, asking loud questions.

"Let her breath," a familiar voice said. Arya looked down and saw her baby brother approaching her, fighting his way through the crowd. "Rickon!" she hurried toward him, shoving away the people blocking her path.

"I've missed you," he told her, wrapping his arms around her. She was amazed to see how much he had grown over the past few months. Dorne had obviously been good to him.

"You're taller than me now!" she exclaimed, just as someone else pulled her into a bone crushing hug. Arya looked up and saw Syrio- she had not even realized how much she had missed him until now.

She could see her mother run toward her, arms wide open. Biting her lip, Arya ran into her harms, burying her face in her mother's auburn hair.

"My child," Catelyn cried. "My reckless, stubborn little girl, I have been so scared." As they broke apart, Catelyn cupped Arya's chin and studied her face. "What happened to your cheek?" she asked.

Arya felt her throat thicken, but before she even got the chance to reply, a voice pierced through the air.

"Arya!"

Spinning around, she saw Bran rolling to them. She reluctantly pulled out of her mother's embrace and ran to him. "I'm so sorry," she told him as she bent down to hug him.

"It's okay," he assured her. "The important thing is that you are safe!"

It felt like all she did all night was hug and smile and cry. Everybody wanted to hear about her adventure, and Arya tried to answer everyone as politely as she could, although all she wished to do was to lock herself inside her chamber and sleep for the rest of her year. She tried to catch a glimpse of Gendry, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The maester's steward, Phillip, was the one tending her wounds as maester Luwin was busy with Gendry's more severe injuries. When the feast started, Arya asked Bran where they had taken Gendry, but when she stood up to go to him, her mother gave her a stern look.

"The people of Winterfell have been expecting you all night, the least you can do is honor them with your presence."

"Mother-"

"You will not be allowed to watch as maester Luwin fix your friend. You are more use here than you are there."

But Arya was done taking orders. Gendry was in pain right now, and he needed her there, no matter what her mother said.

"He's more than my friend, mother," she hissed and hurried through the great hall. She could feel everyone's eyes upon her, but ignored them. At some point, they had to accept that she was not an ordinary lady.

She ran to the forge. Even before she entered through the door, she could hear Gendry's agonizing groans. Myra and Mikken were seated in the kitchen, holding hands. When Myra saw her, she hurried to wipe the tears away and bid her a polite smile. Arya wasted no time and crossed the floor to Gendry's chamber in a matter of seconds.

"Lady Stark!" Maester Luwin gasped as she entered. "You ought not to be here."

Arya ignored his words and crouched down on the floor next to Gendry's straw bed. "I'm here," she assured him and took his hand in hers. He looked at her, his face covered in sweat.

"Hey," he breathed, forcing a smile. "We made it home."

"Yes we did," she smiled, stroking his cheek.

"Lady Arya-" maester Luwin started, but Arya cut across him.

"I'm not leaving him. Do what you must, I can take it."

The maester seemed to realize the battle was lost and returned to working on Gendry's thigh. When Arya glanced down, the yellow wound was puking pus.

"I'm going to have to cut the infection out of the leg before I sew it back together," maester Luwin told Phillip – his steward. Arya tightened her grip around Gendry's hand. He had been through this before on the wall, he could do it again.

As the knife pierced the surface of the wound, Gendry's nails dug into her palm, making her bleed. He stared at her, panting, his whole body twisting in pain, but no sound escaped his lips.

"You're doing great," she told him. Judging by the ointment on his face and neck, Luwin had already cleansed the cuts the king's knight had given him.

"I'm finished," maester Luwin sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Tell Mikken and Myra they can come see him now," he ordered Phillip, who obeyed immediately.

Arya stepped aside as they entered, giving them the chance to talk to him.

"How are you feeling, Gendry?" Myra asked, bending down next to him.

"I'm fine, Myra," he assured her in a hoarse voice. Arya was always amuzed by Mikken's quiet character, but never felt he cared less about Gendry just because he never said anything.

"You were so brace," she smiled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Suddenly she turned to Arya. Arya bit her lip nervously. Perhaps Myra was blaming her for Gendry's injuries – just like Arya was.

"I'm really sorry I-"she started, her cheek flushing, but Myra shook her head and squeezed Arya's hand.

"Not to worry, my lady. You are both safe and that is all that matters."

"Although his thigh has suffered severe injuries, I am positive he will be able to walk again, however I am afraid he will always have a limp." Maester Luwin said. "I will have to cleanse his wound once aday, and his bandage must be changed morning and night."

Myra nodded, patting Gendry's shoulder. "Thank you, maester."

Arya stayed by Gendry's side for the rest of the evening. When Myra brought him soup, Arya fed him, and when he needed to reveal himself, she brought his bed pot out for him.

"I can't believe we're home," she said, smiling. It was like her face had frozen in that position ever since she returned to Winterfell.

"Thank you, Arya. For staying, I mean."

She chuckled and wrapped her hands around his face. "Of course I stayed. You're my smith."

"And you're my lady."

* * *

Catelyn

"Where is your sister?" Catelyn asked, looking at Bran. The feast had already ended, and Arya had never returned from visiting the smith.

"I have not seen her," Bran replied. Catelyn sighed, pulled her cloak on and went out into the cold night, determined to bring Arya back to the castle. She had believed her daughter had grown tired of rebelling by now, but she still kept disobeying orders.

Catelyn crossed the yard and knocked on the door to the forge. Although it was in the middle of the night, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs almost immediately. Mikken opened and let her enter, bowing slightly. "My lady," he greeted.

"I am sorry to bother you at this hour, but I believe my daughter is here."

"She is, my lady. I did not have the heart to send her on her way," Mikken said and motioned for her to follow him to the second floor. Despite all the years she had lived at Winterfell, she had never seen the inside of Mikken's residence, and was surprised to see how small it truly was.

His wife, Myra, was seated by the small table with a piece of clothing in her hand. She put down her sweing kit as Catelyn entered and curtsied politely. "My lady," she said.

"I'm looking for my daughter," Catelyn replied.

"Let me take you to her," Myra said and crossed the floor. Catelyn followed her as she entered a chamber at the end of the room. She gasped by the sight that met her. In the small bed covering most of the floor was the blacksmith with dirt on his face and his breeches covered in blood. His face had been badly cut, and he no longer looked as handsome as he once had. But what shook her the most was the fact that her daughter, a lady of Winterfell, was asleep next to him, her head resting on the man's chest and her arm wrapped around his waist.

"Arya," she whispered, giving Myra a flabbergasted look. How could she let something like this happen? Had she no honor?

"This is highly inappropriate," Catelyn hissed, reaching out to pull Arya off the bed.

"They are in love, my lady. Who are we to deny them happiness?"

Catelyn snorted, rolling her eyes. "Do you expect me to let my daughter marry some bastard?" when Myra did not reply, Catelyn gave her a stern look. "Arya is a high-born. She is to be lady of Horn Hill and I will not let her spoil that opportunity because of some childhood crush."

She seized Arya's arm and jerked her out of the bed. Arya's head snapped up and she looked around with a confused expression on her face.

"Mother!" she exclaimed. By now, Gendry was also awake and tried to climb out of the bed, but his injured leg stopped him.

"Lady Stark-" Myra said, but Catelyn was already on her way down the stairs, dragging Arya after her.

"Mother, let me go!" Arya yelled, jerking her hand out of Catelyn's grip.

"Arya, if you don't come with my right now, I will-"

"What? Disown me? Because I really wouldn't mind! When will you realize that I am not a lady! I don't want to marry Dickon, I don't want to rule Horn Hill. That life is not for me!"

Catelyn crossed her arms. "Listen to yourself. You are tired and hungry. Now, come with me and we will have the servants bring you some proper food."

"I am a woman grown. I refuse to be bossed around like a child."

"If you truly are a woman grown, then act like one," Catelyn said through clenched teeth. Arya scowled at her before looking back to the chamber where Gendry was, then shot Myra and Mikken a friendly look.

"I will return in the morrow to see how he is," she promised before marching past Catelyn. Arya had already run to the castle when Catelyn emerged the forge, and when she knocked on her chamber door, there were no reply.

_Great_, she thought, turning to leave. _She was even more stubborn now than she was before she left._

* * *

AN: I'm sorry to all of you who like Catelyn. I guess I let my personal feelings effect my writing. I know I have exaggerated her a bit, but well, what story would it be without a little uphill, eh?


	26. Chapter 26

**I had such a scare this week. My computer crashed and our computerguy said that it was possible that I would lose everything... And I just thought: "NO! What about my fic?" **

**Luckily, he managed to fix it without deleting my stuff, so. wii. **

* * *

Chapter 26

Arya

It was midday before Arya was awoken by a maid called Ellyn. As she pulled the curtains from the window, bright light stung Arya's eyes.

"Good morning," Ellyn greeted happily. "Your lady mother told me to draw you a bath. Would you like to break your feast in the water?"

Arya could not hide her smile. No matter how much she hated being a lady, there were certain benefits – like the servants.

"Thank you, that would be great," Arya said and followed Ellyn to the tub room. There were three large tubs in there, but only one was filled with steaming hot water.

"Look at your nails, my lady. They look like a man's."

Arya chuckled and glanced at herself in the looking glass covering the left wall. Her hair was dirty and tangled, her face covered with mud and her body bruised and beaten.

"You must tell me everything about your adventure, my lady," she insisted as she helped Arya strip off her clothes. Arya started sharing her story as Ellyn scrubbed her skin raw. At some point, another maid came in with a tray of food, and Arya ate hungrily. It wasn't until her mother entered that Arya remembered the difficult task ahead of her; she had to make her mother understand that it was Gendry she wanted, not Dickon.

"Look at you," Catelyn said, sitting down next to the tub. "Your beautiful hair… why did you cut it off?"

"I did not want to attract unwanted attention from the men on the Wall," Arya said. "Besides, it is always safer to travel as a boy."

"Smart," Catelyn admitted. "Thank you, Ellyn, you may go."

Ellyn curtsied and left, giving Arya a sympathetic smile. Arya sighed. _Here we go_, she thought.

"I am tired of fighting, Arya. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps we can find an agreement," Catelyn seized the sponge and scrubbed Arya's back gently. "I heard rumors that you and Dickon had a row when he visited, so I can understand that you do not wish to marry him, and I will not force you."

Arya felt the relief rush over her.

"However," her mother continued. "As a lady you have duties."

Arya pulled away from her mother's touch and scowled at her. "I don't want to marry some stupid lord," she argued. "If I have to marry anyone, I want to marry Gendry!"

Catelyn pursed her lips and gave her a skeptical look. "If that is how you feel, I would rather see you not marrying at all."

Arya gasped, staring at her mother in disbelief. "Mother!"

"You are young and innocent," she said, but suddenly froze. "Arya, you are still a maiden, aren't you?"

"Mother!"

"This is serious matter, Arya. What lord would possibly want to marry a ruined woman?"

"I am not ruined!" she spat. Catelyn sighed in relief.

"Good, good. At least the bastard had the sense to keep his hands off of you."

"Do not call him a bastard!" Arya hissed and jumped out of the tub, wrapping a robe around herself.

Catelyn scoffed. "That's what he is, isn't it?"

"This is about Jon," Arya stated. "You hate bastards because it reminds you of him. Of father's mistake."

"Do not speak to me about this, Arya. This is none of your business!"

"If you only knew who Gendry's father truly was, you would not recent him as much as you do," Arya hissed. Suddenly, Catelyn fell silent.

"Whose bastard is he?" she asked. Arya bit her lip. Gendry's identity was supposed to be a secret. What if her mother did not care if Gendry was the king's son and would do something irrational to have him gone from her life forever."

"I don't know," Arya said quietly. "But neither do you. Perhaps he is the son of a high-born lord, or maybe he is of royal descent. That ought to shut you up!"

"Arya, you are stepping out of line. I am your mother, and I will not be spoken to this way!"

"A mother would want what is best for her daughter. Not intentionally ruin her life," Arya said darkly and turned to leave.

"Arya-" Catelyn called after her, but Arya was already halfway to her chamber. How she wished her father was there; surely he would take her side on this.

She was introduced to baby Atheena the same day. Arya had never seen anything so perfect her entire life, and caught herself envying Talla once again. Having children had always seemed so pointless to her, but holding Atheena in her arms made Arya realize the enchantment of babes. They were like a gift from the gods, given to those who deserve it.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" she asked the little babe, stroking her nose. "When you grow up, I will teach you how to fight with swords and use a bow and arrow."

Talla chuckled beside her. "And then she will become as much a rebel as you are."

Arya sighed and handed the babe back to her mother. "For her sake, I hope she becomes as obedient and ladylike as Sansa."

"I guess you have heard about my reluctance to marry your brother," Arya said, giving her good sister an apologetic look.

"Everybody has heard, Arya."

"I just want you to know it is nothing personal against your family, I just-"

"Don't love him," Talla finished. "It's okay, I understand. In some way, I guess I was lucky; I did not find love until I married your brother. I did not have to make a choice."

"To be honest, I doubt I would have wanted to marry your brother either way. A lady's life is not a life for me."

Talla put the babe down in the crib with gentle hands. They stood beside each other, looking down at the little bundle. "I admire you, Arya," she admitted. Arya shot her a surprised look.

"Why would anyone admire a disobedient excuse for a lady like me?"

Talla put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "You've got courage. You dare stand for what you believe in; you don't bow down for anyone, not even your lady mother. You might be disobedient, but you are brave enough to go your own way."

Arya gave her a grateful smile. It was good to know that someone did not think she was a reckless, ungrateful girl.

"She's beautiful," Arya said, staring down at Atheena. "Her hair is just like Sansa's."

"Let's hope she grows up just as beautiful as well," Talla smiled.

* * *

Gendry

When Gendry awoke, Myra had already warmed a bath for him, and she helped him into the tub. Maester Luwin had given them a special soap that would not sting his wounds when bathing, and Gendry was forever grateful.

"Was it worth it?" Myra asked, scrubbing his arms with a soft sponge. Gendry looked at her, uncertain of what she meant.

"All these injuries-Is she worth it?"

Gendry clenched his jaw and looked straight ahead, dwelling on her words. "Yes," he replied determinedly. "I would give my life for her."

Myra sighed and patted his shoulder affectionately. "I'm afraid you have a lot of wars ahead of you, dear."

"What do you mean?"

"Lady Catelyn does not approve of your love, son. She will do whatever she can to tear the pair of you apart, and I am in no position to stop her."

Gendry snorted. "If she wants me gone, I will go, but not without Arya."

Myra cupped his chin and stared at him. "Do not run away again, Gendry. Just look at what your last adventure cost you. I beg you, Gendry, stay. You have a home here – people who loves you. You have a good job and a great possibility to build a life for yourself here at Winterfell."

"If you expect me to sit quietly by as they ship Arya away to marry someone she doesn't want to marry, you do not know me at all."

Sighing, Myra poured some water over his head and washed the grease out of it. "I wish you the best of luck, dear. If you are to stand against the lady of Winterfell, you will need all the luck you can get."

* * *

Arya

She did not manage to escape her mother until twilight, and at the first time she got, she hurried to the forge, dressed in her usual breeches and tunic.

"He is in his chamber," Myra said as she entered the kitchen. Although her attitude toward her had chilled somewhat, she was still as polite as a commoner ought to be toward a high-born.

"Thank you," Arya smiled.

She was caught by surprise to find Gendry clean and newly shaved. It had been so long since the last time she saw him without a beard, she hardly recognized him without one.

"Wow," she chuckled and sat down in the bed next to him. "You look like a boy again."

Gendry snorted back a laugh. "And you almost look like a proper little lady."

"How's your leg?" she asked, pulling the cover away from his thigh. "Is it still infected?"

"It looks gross, don't take the bandage off. I swear, it stinks worse than Mikken does."

Arya picked up a book from his nightstand and looked at him. "You can't read," she stated. "Why would you need a book?"

Gendry gave her a slightly offended look. "I can read! Well, at least I recognize some words."

Arya opened it and wrinkled her nose. "I never liked reading anyway. It's too boring. Perhaps I will teach you one day."

Gendry smiled and ruffled her hair. "Did you get in a lot of trouble with your mother last night?"

Arya snorted. "What do you expect? She's furious. I'm sure she's about to lock me up in some tower until I promise to behave or something."

"And if she did, I would climb the tower and abduct you like the gentleman I am."

Laughing, she put her hands behind his neck and pulled him close. "I think I am capable of saving myself, thank you very much."

"I don't doubt it," he grinned. As their lips met, Arya knew that fighting her mother was totally worth it; Gendry was the one. He tangled his fingers in her hair, closing the gap between them. When they broke apart, she kept her eyes closed and breathed in the smell of him. It was so different from the familiar mix of sweat and dirt, but yet so alike.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked, rubbing her forehead against his. He sighed, stroking her lip.

"Fight," he whispered. "Fight until the whole world understands that keeping us apart is useless."

* * *

Ned

After his meeting with the king – and queen, Ned had been released, much to his surprise. The king had found no reason to keep him as a prisoner, and had not had a choice but to let him go. But instead of returning to Winterfell, Ned continued his search after the truth about Gendry. When he visited Mott's forge for the second time, Tobho told him about the owner of the alehouse Emeline had worked at. Aaron was his name, and although the blacksmith did not know whether the man was alive or not, Ned went to seek him down and pay him a visit.

The alehouse might have been very beautiful at some point, but the lack of care had made it look old and uninviting. The common room was almost empty except for a few elderly men in a corner. Ned crossed the room and went to the counter where a woman in her mid-forties with dark hair was smiling widely at him.

"What can I do you for?" she asked.

"I am looking for Aaron – the owner."

The woman gave him a sad smile. "I'm afraid Aaron passed away three years ago."

Ned nodded and looked at her. It was a long shot, but perhaps…

"How long have you been working here…?"

"Dimia," the woman said, winking. "I've been working here since I married Aaron. That must be about… twenty-five years ago."

Ned smiled, pleased with her answer. "I am Eddard Stark, warden of the North. May I have a few words with you? It's about a woman who used to work here about twenty years ago."

The woman glanced around and nodded. "Would you like some wine my lord?"

"Yes please," Ned said. Dimia pulled a bottle of wine from a shelf and motioned for him to follow her.

"Aleina, watch the counter, dear!" she shouted up a stairway just as a young girl around Arya's age emerged from upstairs. She had a mane of curly, light brown hair and a smile identical to Dimia's.

"Your daughter I presume?" Ned said.

"The youngest – only one more bird to kick out of the nest." She poured wine into a cup and handed it to him. "So, who is this woman you are asking of?" they sat down by a table in the corner of the room, farthest away from the other guests.

"All I know is her first name, Emeline. She had yellow hair and green eyes, and about two-and-twenty years ago she got pregnant."

Dimia's eyes widened as the memory of Emeline came back to her.

"Emeline, of course I remember her! She was such a lovely girl – and her son, ah, what a sweetheart."

"You knew her son?"

"Of course. She brought him to work every day. I don't usually approve of having children in the alehouse, but Gendry was such a good boy. From the day he learned to walk, he would help out as best as he could, wipe tables and scrub the floor."

"Could you tell me how she died?"

Dimia's face turned dark and she glanced nervously around. "We do not speak of it out loud, my lord. It was a tragic death."

Ned leaned closer and whispered. "This information could secure the boy's future."

"You know where Gendry is?"

"I do."

Dimia sighed and clutched her hands together in her lap. "It was the boy they were after. The gold cloaks. They stopped by the alehouse one night when Emeline was working late. Gendry was sleeping with my children upstairs – they loved having him around. However when the knights asked for him, Emeline denied his existence. But they already knew – someone had tipped them off. At first I did not realize what the gold cloaks wanted with an innocent child, but then I remembered something Emeline used to call him: 'your highness'. I thought it was just a harmless nickname, but when the gold cloaks came-"

"You realized he was the king's bastard," he finished in a whisper. Dimia nodded, rubbing her cheek nervously.

"When she refused to give them his location, they took her with them. She went almost willingly – only to keep her son safe. She was always very protective of him; a good mother." Dimia paused and poured a cup of wine for herself, taking a large gulp. "She was able to buy the boy some time – long enough for my eldest son to sneak him away and hide him in the neighbor's attic. I expected Emeline would return the same night, but she never did. The boy stayed with us for some time, until Tobho Mott offered him an apprenticeship. I wanted to keep him with me, but I am not a stupid woman; everybody knows that when a bastard boy is offered a trade, one should not decline that offer."

Ned nodded, folding his hands. "she died protecting him," he said.

"She was always very brave, Emeline. It was a loss not easily forgotten." Dimia rubbed her cheek again, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Tell him about her," she said in a meek voice. "Tell him how brave she was. Let him know that he was loved."

"I will, you have my word," Ned assured her.


	27. Chapter 27

The end is drawing nearer and nearer! I just want to thank all of you for sticking with me for all this time - you are the best!

* * *

Chapter 27

Arya

The transition from being on the road to living in a castle was huge, and Arya soon found herself bored out of her mind. Gendry's leg was still too sore to use, and her mother kept her inside most of the time. However, Arya would sneak out and practice on water dance with Syrio, or duel with Rickon. Every night after supper, she would stop by the forge and visit Gendry. They had started on reading lessons, and although Arya was much too impatient to be a good teacher, he was making progress. But whenever Catelyn forced her to stay inside, Arya usually spent her time cuddling with Atheena. They received a letter from Sansa telling them she had given birth to a beautiful Baby boy called Espan.

Merida had gotten a position as a maid as Arya had promised her, and Talla was grateful to have a maid who was good with her daughter as well as obedient and polite. Catelyn had suggested that Talla could find a wet nurse for the babe, but Talla insisted on feeding her herself, believing it would bring mother and daughter closer.

But most of the time, Catelyn had Arya follow her around all day, learning what a lady of a castle had to do. Arya hated those lessons, but the more she complained, the more she had to watch her mother do pointless stuff with the servants.

The best about being back home was sleeping in her old bed, although it seemed awfully big when Nymeria was not sleeping in it with her. She missed her direwolf very much, and hated herself for bringing her along. She would have been safe had she been left at Winterfell.

It was on her third week back that Robb returned from the capital. There were held no feast for his arrival, but the whole family gathered in the great hall to eat supper together while listening to his stories. When he heard what Stannis had done to her and Gendry, he had raged and threatened to rip the king's lungs out. But Arya managed to talk him out of it, telling him of the witch who would deifinitely see his attack coming. They were chanceless against him, and so Robb let it go, or at least he pretended to, but Arya could sense the bitterness in his words as he agreed to leave the king alone.

His face when he first took a look at his baby girl was unforgettable. His eyes had lit up in pride and he had not been able to utter a single word while holding the babe in his arms. And for a few days after his return, Winterfell seemed almost as it used to before everyone got obsessed with marriages and duties. But when Catelyn suggested that Arya traveled with Robb and Talla to Horn Hill to visit her parents, Arya released her stubborn monster, and all hell broke loose.

"I won't marry him!" she yelled, crossing her arms. "How many times must we go over this, mother!"

"You will do as I tell you," Catelyn insisted. "As far as the Tarly's know, you are an eager bride-to-be who can't wait to marry their son."

Arya looked at Bran for support, but he simply shook his head and looked down at his hands. Rickon hurried to finish his breakfast before he almost ran out of the great hall. Robb and Talla looked curiously at them as Arya and Catelyn scowled at each other.

"If you force me to marry that fool, I swear I will run away again, and this time I will not return!" Arya shrieked, jumping to her feet. Catelyn stood up as well, hurrying after her.

"No you will not, young lady! It is time to put this attitude of yours to rest; you are a lady of WInterfell and you are to marry a lord!"

Arya looked at Robb, perhaps he would take her side on this. To her relief, Robb stood up and walked over to Catelyn, whispering something in her ear. Catelyn jerked around and stared at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Robb said something under his breath, and they emerged from the room in a matter of seconds. As soon as her mother was gone, Arya sank down on the bench, burying her face in her palms.

"Why doesn't she understand?" she asked Bran who was stroking her back sympathetically.

"She only wants what she believes is the best for you," he said quietly.

"Robb will make her see," Talla smiled, rocking Atheena in her arms. "Don't worry, Arya, she'll come around eventually."

When maester Luwin finally gave him permission to use the leg, Arya stopped by the forge to help him to recovery. They started with walking around the kitchen, but soon learned that it was much too small. The yard was too muddy and slippery, and Arya suggested they snuck into the castle and practiced in the corridor outside her room.

As Lady Catelyn was busy doing whatever was expected of a lady, Arya managed to get Gendry in through the side door without being noticed by anyone. She half-carried him up the stairs, but as they reached the corridor, she told him to walk by his own. As he put his weight on the wounded foot, his face turned into an agonizing grimace, and he fell to the ground. Arya caught him just before he hit the wall, and helped him back up. They practiced throughout the evening, only interrupted by Rickon as he passed them on his way to his room. Luckily, Rickon only gave them a knowing smile and disappeared again without as much as a word. Arya seriously doubted he would tell on her.

By the end of the day, Gendry managed to take a few steps on his leg, before having to transfer his weight onto the other. Arya was so relieved to see him walk she wanted to dance around, cheering; he was not a cripple – she had not ruined his life. The scars on his face seemed to fade as well, and were not as pronounced as before.

"Arya?" a voice called from the bottom of the stairs. Arya froze and listened to her mother's steps as she climbed the stone steps.

"Quick, in here," she told Gendry and pushed him into her room. "Under the bed!" Gendry obeyed and was soon out of sight. Arya seated herself in a chair by the window and put a book in her lap, pretending to read. When her mother entered, Arya looked up in surprise.

"We need to talk," Catelyn said and sat down on the bed, motioning for Arya to sit next to her. Arya did as she was told and looked upon her mother's gentle face. She already knew what this was about, and cursed herself for hiding Gendry inside her room; he should not need to hear what her mother had to say about him. He deserved better.

"It's about the blacksmith," her mother started.

"He's got a name," Arya replied in a harsh voice. "Gendry. His name is Gendry."

Sighing, her mother took her hand in hers. "Gendry," she repeated, smiling slightly. "I'm afraid I have judged him much too soon. You were right, Arya. I was prejudice because he's a bastard, but-"

Arya snorted. So Catelyn knew of his origins. That was the only reason why her mother would suddenly approve of him. She knew he was of royal blood, and suddenly everything was okay.

"Who told you?" Arya demanded.

"What?"

"I know you know, mother. Who told you?"

Catelyn let go of her hands and paced around the room. "Robb did. It was because of Gendry your father left for the capital."

"I know," Arya said, her voice poisonous. It was not Gendry her mother accepted; it was his royal blood.

"This changes everything, Arya. Why did you not tell me earlier?"

Arya bit her lip. She had to play this right, or else her mother might change her mind. "Because he's in danger."

Catelyn nodded. "So your brother said. What I don't understand is why you felt like you couldn't trust me with such a secret. Were you afraid I'd tell the queen of his locations?"

"Yes."

Catelyn sank down in the chair, clutching her hands together in her lap. "Have I really given you such an impression that I would be willing to sacrifice a man's life just to keep the two of you apart?" when Arya did not reply, Catelyn buried her face in her palm, shaking slightly. "I'm sorry, Arya. I realize I have been much too hard on you. I've been blinded by what I thought would be the best for you – I did not see, but now I do. If you truly want to marry the smith, I will not stand in your way."

Arya looked skeptically at her. "What's the catch?" she asked.

Catelyn stared at her in disbelief. "After all this, do you still think-"

"Yes, I do think there is something more buried beneath your words. Perhaps I should clarify a few things for you, mother. Although he is the eldest son of Robert Baratheon, he is still bastard born and unless he is legitimized he has no claim to the throne what so ever. And even if he did, Gendry wants to be king just as much as I wish to be a queen. We will live in no castle, and he will continue his trade as a smith because that is his true passion."

Catelyn startled slightly by her words. "Why live as common people when you could have a king legitimize him?"

Arya groaned and crossed her arms stubbornly. "Did you not hear what I said? Gendry doesn't care about a stupid iron throne."

"Are you sure about that, sweetheart? Perhaps he says so now, but the possibility for power changes people."

Arya glared at her mother. _Gendry wasn't like that._

"He could make a deal with his uncles – they will give him a castle as long as he promises not to claim the throne, I'm sure of it. You need not live as a low-born, Arya. "

"Why don't we ask Gendry what he wants?" Arya suggested, and before her mother could reply, Arya crouched down on the floor and pulled Gendry out from under the large bed. His tunic was covered in dust and his hair completely disheveled as Arya helped him to his feet.

"Arya!" Catelyn gasped, standing up. Gendry looked slightly uncomfortable as Arya put her arm around his waist and stared daringly at her mother.

"Tell her, Gendry. Tell her that you wish no part in the game of thrones."

Gendry bowed politely. "All I wish is your daughter's hand, my lady."

Catelyn pursed her lips, staring angrily at them, but she had given them permission, and there was nothing she could do anymore.

After Arya followed Gendry home, she wrote a long letter to Sansa, telling her everything about her latest adventure. Perhaps her sister could be the answer to her prayers.

* * *

Two weeks later a raven came from king's landing with letters both to Robb and to Arya's surprise, Gendry. She recognized her father's writing, and hid the letter carefully in her pocket. Although her mother was no longer as persistent to put a stopper to Arya and Gendry's relationship, Arya knew she had to be careful. After handing the note to Robb, she sprinted across the yard and into the forge without even knocking. Gendry had started to work again; only a few hours a day, of course, but enough to tire him down. As she showed him the letter, he told Mikken he needed a break and climbed the stairs after Arya. As Myra was not at home, they could read the letter in peace by the kitchen table.

"Read it," Arya urged. Gendry stared at the letter, rubbing his chin.

"It's about my mum," he stated. "I recognized her name! Arya, read it out loud, will you?"

Arya jerked the letter out of his hand and started to read, her eyes growing blurrier and blurrier as tears welled up in them. Gendry listened in silence.

It was the story of his mother's death, retold by her father. She frequently glanced up at Gendry to see his reaction, but his face was blank. She read on about how his mother had sacrificed his life for him, about Dimia, the alehouse owner's wife, and about Tobho's offer to teach him forging. But it was the last sentences that ca

ught Arya by surprise.

"Gendry," she said quietly. "You have a brother!"

Gendry snorted. "I've got lots of brothers. The king fucked any woman willing to do him."

"No, I mean you've got a brother by your mother, Emeline."

Gendry glanced at the note, narrowing his eyes as he tried to read. "Does it say who he is?"

"Father doesn't know."

As she finished reading the letter, Gendry looked at it for several minutes in utter silence. He glanced at the delicate writing and stroked his mother's name gently.

"She saved my life," he said in a thick voice.

"She loved you," Arya told him and kissed his hand. "You were never alone, Gendry. All this time, there have been people looking out for you; your mother, Dimia, Tobho and now you have me." Gendry looked at her, his lips twisting into a smile.

"I love you," he whispered and cupped her chin, pulling her closer. Their lips met, and Arya felt the familiar sensation rush through her.

"You're my smith," she told him as they broke apart, kissing his nose.

"And you're my lady."

* * *

Wow, mushy. haha. whatever, they're in love. people are allowed to be mushy when in love.


	28. Chapter 28

I just realized this is the second last chapter to this story! Thank you guys for reading, you are the best and leave behind the greatest reviews.

* * *

Chapter 28

Arya

It was Merida who awakened her one morrow several weeks later, a frightened expression on her face.

"Lady Arya," she whispered, crouching down by her bed. Arya sat up and looked at her.

"Merida, what's the matter?" she asked. Merida clutched her hands together and glanced nervously around.

"I'm afraid, Arya, so very afraid."

Arya seized Merida's hand and squeezed it. "Tell me what frightens you," she said. Merida brushed her hair out of her face and wiped her cheek quickly.

"It's the king and his mistress. They will come for us, I am sure of it. We betrayed them – they will have our heads for it."

Arya pulled Merida to her feet and gave the maid a warm hug. "Not to worry, my friend. You are safe here." But the thought of the king coming to seek revenge had crossed Arya's mind as well.

Merida shook her head meekly. "We need to leave. Jarin and I. We need to get as far away from the witch as possible."

Arya looked at her before she brought a letter out from her night table. "You can come with us," she said. "Gendry and I are leaving for Dorne in a week. Come with us, Merida. Dorne is as far south of Westeros one can come. You will be safe there- at least for a while."

Merida stared down at the letter in her hand. "Dorne? Why is my lady traveling to Dorne?"

"We will live with my sister Sansa, Lady of Starfall. She has given us her consent. Gendry will work as a smith for the lord."

Merida's eyes widened in delight. "And we can come with you? Both Jarin and I? I will be your maid, my lady, and Jarin will protect you with his life. You shall not regret bringing us."

"Merida, you are my friend. I do not wish you as a maid. As soon as we are in Dorne, Jarin and you will marry and you shall have his babes. You are not to work as a maid any longer."

Merida choked back a sob and gave Arya another hug. "My lady is too kind," she whispered. "I will tell Jarin at once. He will be so thrilled. Thank you, Arya."

Arya's smile faded as soon as she was alone. She had not yet told Gendry about her plan, but in order to keep him safe from King Stannis, she found it necessary to leave Winterfell. However, she doubted he would be displeased with this new development; finally they would be free from Catelyn's overprotective stares and her disapproving looks.

Arya would tell Gendry eventually, but first she had to talk to Robb. It all depended on whether he was willing to send guards to escort them to Dorne. She would not risk another folly adventure where they would be attacked by savages every other day. Her trip to the Wall had taught her that it was always safer to travel as a group.

After she put on her usual breeches and tunic, she ran to the great hall to meet Robb, but all she found was Talla and Catelyn, bent over Atheena, giggling by everything the babe did.

"Where's Robb?" Arya asked.

"In the lord's tower," Talla replied without taking her eyes off of her daughter. Arya sprinted up the stairs, two at a time.

"Yes?" Robb's dark voice said as she knocked on the large wooden door. She entered and found him seated by the desk, a pile of letters in front of him.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked.

"Not at all, little sister. Come in."

She sat down in the chair across from him and folded her hands on the desk. "I have a favor to ask," she started. Robb pursed his lips and looked at her with a sly smile.

"I wondered when you would say that," he smirked. Arya startled. Had Sansa written to Robb and revealed Arya's plan?

"You know what I am asking for?" she asked.

Robb leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. "You want guards."

Arya gaped at him, but regain her confident stature immediately. "Indeed I do," she said, smiling slightly.

"You are leaving again," he stated, his voice slightly hurt. "But I understand why you must do so. It is not safe for you so close to King Stannis. I am glad you are smart enough to ask for guards this time and not run off by yourself again. However, I am curious as to where you are going."

Arya bit her lip. "We are going to Dorne."

Robb's smile grew. "I was hoping you'd say that. As long as you're not fleeing to the free cities, I am relieved. And of course I will spare some men for you – you are my sister and I will do anything to keep you safe."

Arya gave him a grateful look. She had been afraid he'd force her to stay. "They need only escort us to White Harbor, of course. From there we will take a ship all the way to the west coast of Dorne, not far from Starfall. Sansa promised Lord Edric would send some men to greet us.

"I presume the blacksmith is going with you."

Arya nodded. "And Merida and Jarin. They are also fleeing the king."

"I see. Will fifty men please the lady?"

Arya snorted. "Ten would be more than enough, Robb."

"Fifty it is," he scribbled something down on a piece of paper. "When will you be leaving?"

"A week from tomorrow."

Robb looked up at her, nodding. "I am sorry to see you go, Arya. I'll miss you. We all will. Have you told mother yet?"

Arya grimaced and shook her head. "I am saving her to last. That's the conversation I am dreading the most."

"I do not blame you," Robb chuckled, and then his face grew serious. "Arya, are you sure about this?"

"I have never been so sure of anything my entire life."

* * *

Gendry

When Arya told him of her plans, he had been slightly hurt that she had come up with it without his knowledge. But then again, Arya did always act first and ask questions later. Although it would be difficult to leave Mikken and Myra, Winterfell had never been his home. Not really.

He offered to come with her when she said she was going to tell her mother, but she declined his offer. "It is best if I go alone," she said. Gendry knew she was right. Besides, he had to tell Mikken and his wife about his sudden departure.

They were seated by the table eating supper when he brought it up. Myra gasped in surprise.

"You're leaving?"

Gendry felt his heart ache when he saw her hurtful eyes looked at him. "Yes," he said.

"To where?" Mikken asked in his husky voice. Gendry hesitated. Arya had told him not to tell anyone else of where they were going. Not even Mikken and Myra_. It's for their own good_, he reminded himself.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," he said with a heavy heart.

"I understand," Myra squeezed his hand and gave him a weak smile. "If anything goes wrong, dear, just remember: You will always have a home with us."

Gendry felt his throat thicken and forced a smile. It would be harder to say goodbye than he had anticipated.

"Look, lad," Mikken said and brought a pouch out of his pocket. "for your help."

Gendry stared in amazement as Mikken placed three silver moons in his palm. "It is not much, but it is something."

"I cannot accept this," Gendry started, but Mikken gave him a stern look.

"You have deserved it, sweetheart," Myra smiled and stroked his cheek. "I wish you the best of luck on your journey, dear. May the gods be kind to you."

* * *

Arya

As she packed her life into a large wooden chest, Arya felt her throat thicken. She decided only to bring what was absolutely necessary, like clothes and shoes. She even brought a couple of books Bran had given her once. But the most important things were her arms. She refused to leave her beloved swords and daggers behind, and who knew – perhaps Lord Edric would let her be a part of his guard.

When she had told her mother about her departure, Catelyn had tried to talk her out of it. But when she understood Arya was unyielding, Catelyn had seeked more desperate measures. At some point she had even tried to force Robb to withdraw his offer to have men escort them safely to White Harbor. But Robb was on Arya's side, and did everything he could to make Catelyn understand why they had to leave. It was a matter of life and death should the king come to look for them.

Arya pulled one of her gowns out of her closet. It was a woman's gown, the first her mother had given her when she flowered, but Arya had never felt comfortable wearing such low-cut dresses. However, it was a dress Sansa would approve of, and Arya thought it best not to shame her sister looking like a boy. She had, after all, done her a huge favor. Arya gathered the rest of the gowns and put them in the chest. She could give them to Merida as soon as they arrived in Dorne. As far as she knew, Merida had only a few simple ones, and the gods knew Arya did not have use for them.

They left Winterfell in the middle of the night; Arya, Gendry, Jarin, Merida and fifty guards. Robb had found it best if they departed in the night so they wouldn't earn unwanted attention from the inhabitants of Winterfell. The whole Stark family stood in the yard to say farewell. Everyone except Catelyn; ever since she learned about Arya's plan, she had done everything in her power to prevent her from going, but Arya had made up her mind. Dorne was to be her and Gendry's new home – they would start a new life there. Together.

"I will miss you. Promise you'll write," Bran said as she bent down to hug him.

"I promise," she said, kissing his cheek.

Rickon wrapped his arms around her. He was a head taller than her now, and he wasn't even thirteen yet. "You can come visit me in Dorne any time you want," she told him.

Talla cried as she embraced her, sniffing loudly into her ear. "We'll miss you, Atheena and me both."

Robb was last. He lifted her up into the air with strong arms, spinning her around. "I love you little sister," he told her. "Stay out of trouble."

"Tell mother I love her," Arya said in a thick voice. Robb nodded and placed her back on the ground, cupping her cheek.

"She loves you too, you know that."

Arya nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know."

She turned and saw Gendry receiving a tearful kiss on his cheek from Myra, while Mikken reached his hand out and shook Gendry's.

"Take care, kid," the man said, patting his shoulder.

Arya helped Gendry onto his horse and gave him an affectionate smile. "You ready?" she asked. Gendry nodded determinedly.

"Let's go," he grinned.

When Robb had asked whether she wanted to ride or sit in a wagon, Arya had looked exasperated at him, making him laugh. Merida however, was not used to ride, and was therefore placed in the food wagon. Arya had suggested that Gendry kept her company, but then he had given her an offended look. "I am not a cripple, Arya. I can ride."

As the walls of Winterfell disappeared behind them, Arya felt a pinch of regret jolt through her. Winterfell was her home, how could she leave it? But when she turned back forward she saw Gendry riding side by side with Jarin, and she knew why. It was for him and she knew it would be worth it.

They rode all night and all day, frequently stopping to eat and rest. When the night came, they put up tents in a snowy meadow. As the only females on the trip, Arya and Merida was placed together in the smallest tent. The biggest difference between traveling alone with Gendry and traveling with a large group of guards was that she was not as alert as she had been without them; she felt safe, even when asleep. Although it made her feel strangely weak to be watched over like a proper lady, she knew that if she offered to keep watch, the guards would only laugh at her.

However, Merida seemed grateful to have her by her side at all times. The girl was not as fond of traveling as Arya, and did not mind sitting in the wagon by herself as long as she needed not ride.

"How long will the journey take?" Merida asked as they crawled under their furs for the night.

"It will take us a week to reach White Harbor. From there we will sail to Dorne. I'm afraid I do not know how long it will take, nor how soon we will have a ship ready."

Merida nodded and snuggled closer to her. Despite the many layers of fur atop of them, the night was cold and Arya found herself relieved to have a warm body next to hers. She suddenly understood why Sansa had kept Jeyne Poole for her bedmaid for so many years.


	29. Chapter 29

**I was wrong, there was actually two chapters left! But I will be posting the last of my baby at the same time. I have to admit I've been kind of nervous about the end... Hope you like it, though. And thanks a lot for sticking with me all this time, you are the best! You have been my motivation to finish the story, and I love you. **

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Chapter 29

Sansa

She had lived in Dorne for almost a year now and the people of Starfall loved her more than she had ever anticipated. Whenever she walked through the yard, commoners would cheer and wave at her. Although the idea of this life had frightened her a year ago, Sansa was happy. She had a beautiful babe, a husband who adored her as much as the commoners did, and she had to admit: Edric was not nearly as bad as she had been afraid of. As a matter of fact, she found him both handsome and kind. He never raised his voice at her, and had never abused her in any way like she knew so many husbands would do. But although she loved him, he was still no Jory. But Sansa was no fool. She knew perfectly well nothing would ever have come out of her romance with the captain of guards. She needed only look at her son to know that she had made the right choice.

When Arya first had written to her, Sansa had danced in happiness. They might have had their differences growing up, but they were still sisters, and sisters ought to look out for each other. She had therefore written back in hurry and welcomed Arya and her smith to Starfall without even consulting her husband.

Ever since she received the second letter from Arya, where she confirmed her departure, Sansa spent all her time preparing for the new inhabitants. As the castle of Starfall was very big; much too big for three, Edric suggested that Arya and Gendry could stay there with them in the west tower which was completely unoccupied and had a great view over the river. They would sleep in different rooms until they were married, of course.

But as the journey from Winterfell was long, Sansa managed to prepare everything long before the group was even close, and she found herself restless for another project. Edric had given her two handmaids and a singer to keep her entertained, but ever since Espan's birth, her son gained most of her attention. He was scarcely two months old, but already very big.

"He will be a great lord someday," his wet-nurse, Kayra, smiled as she removed the boy from her teats and handed him to Sansa. "A handsome one as well."

Sansa smiled down at her little son, stroking his nose. "His hair will be as golden as his father's."

"Or mayhaps it will darken with age and become auburn like yours, my lady." Kayra curtsied and left her alone with the babe. Sansa could sit with the little bundle in her arms for hours – completely enchanted. She remembered how relieved she had been when she learned it was a boy; every lord wished their first born to be an heir.

"I hope you will grow up just as honorable as your father," she told the boy, rocking him in her arms. She knew Edric was the best husband she could ever have hoped for; he treated her with more respect than she had ever expected to get from a man whom married her for her birth. He had even forgiven her for sneaking around with Jory before their marriage. Although he had been slightly hurt in the beginning, he had kissed her softly and whispered: "The important thing is that you are with me now. You chose me."

And from that moment on, Sansa knew that Edric was a man she could truly love.

Her thoughts were interrupted when one of her hand maids entered with a soft knock. "You have a visitor my lady," the young girl said. Sansa tucked the blanket around her son and placed him in his crib.

"Watch him until my return," she ordered the girl and hurried down the staircase, curious of whom this visitor could be.

* * *

Arya

When they reached White Harbor, Arya bid the guards farewell and wished them luck on their way back to Winterfell. She rented a room in an inn by the quay and told Merida and Jarin to stay there and regain warmth while she and Gendry went to find a captain willing to take them to Dorne. Being of noble birth had certain advantages; as money. Robb had been generous and given her more than enough to last her a lifetime of luxury. Walking around with that amount of money in her satchel made Arya feel extremely paranoid and she made sure to keep her dagger accessible.

Merida seemed thrilled to finally eat food cooked in a kitchen and sleep in a bed. Jarin however, was not pleased by being left behind.

"We'll be back before twilight," she promised them.

They fought their way through the crowded fish market. Gendry had made himself a crouch on their journey from Winterfell and was limping quickly beside Arya as she scanned the dock for ships ready to set sail.

"Look, there," Gendry said, pointing toward a ship at the end of the seemingly never-ending row. Arya looked in the direction he was pointing to and saw a crew of ten carrying barrels and boxes aboard one of the smaller ships. Arya nudged Gendry's arm and urged him along as she quickened her pace. As they reached the ship, the crew was already aboard.

"Hey!" Arya yelled, waving her arms. "Hey!"

A man looked up from his bucket of water. "What?"

"Where are you headed?" she asked, taking a few steps closer to the edge.

The man looked at the others whom were too busy preparing the ship to notice her.

"Bravoos," he replied. Arya sighed. Even with all the money she owned, a captain would unlikely be willing to sail all the way to Dorne. They would have to find someone else.

They walked up and down the quay for what felt like hours without luck. Most of the ships were headed for the free cities, and although Arya offered them a lot of money, they only eyed her suspiciously and turned her down. In the end, they had no other choice but to return to the inn as she had promised Merida.

They found the young couple in a corner, a large goblet of wine placed on the table in front of them. Judging by their jolly behavior, they had already drunk more than enough.

"Any luck?" Jarin asked, wrapping his arm around Gendry's shoulder.

"No," Gendry replied.

"Here, have a drink, brother. That will drown your sorrows."

Gendry snorted and gave Arya a japing look, but took a sip of the cup Jarin was offering him.

"Are we staying here until we find a ship, my lady?" Merida asked. Arya reminded her once again to call her by her first name, but the girl never seemed to listen.

"I'm sure we will find a ship in the morrow. Someone must be sailing to Oldtown or Lannisport," Arya assured her. Merida nodded and pulled her down on the bench beside her.

"Have a drink, my lady. You ought to have some fun."

Arya smiled and motioned for one of the serving women to bring some more wine. "Are you hungry?" she asked the others. Their table was soon covered in newly baked bread, broth and cake to quail their hunger. When the night arrived, Gendry and Arya had to carry their companions to bed, as they had both almost fainted by the table from drinking so much.

Arya and Gendry however, returned to the common room to finish their meal. As the room emptied, Arya found herself getting drowsy and rested her head on Gendry's muscular shoulder.

"Do you think we will ever find a ship to take us to Dorne?" she asked. Gendry put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

"Of course we will, Arya. You can't lose hope after one day – that's not very Stark-like," he mocked her. Arya scoffed and put his hand in hers, squeezing it.

"I can't believe we're really doing this," she breathed, smiling. "In a matter of weeks, we will be free to do whatever."

"And what does my lady wish to do?" he asked. Arya put her hand on his cheek and looked up at him.

"You know very well what I wish to do with the freedom."

He sniggered as he leaned down to kiss her. His lips were soft against hers. They tasted of wine, just like they had the first time they kissed.

"Although I have a theory, I'd like to hear it again," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. Arya chuckled and kissed his nose.

"I want to marry you, Gendry Waters."

Gendry cupped her chin and looked at her. "You want to marry me? But do you know if the feeling is mutual?"

Arya punched his shoulder and grimaced at him. "Stupid," she muttered. Gendry's lips twisted into a smile.

"I believe you have not asked me for my hand, my lady."

Arya crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, squinting at him. "Is that really necessary?"

Gendry smirked and nodded until Arya seized his hand and looked into his blue eyes.

"Gendry, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

The smith framed her face with his hands and nodded, bending down to kiss her. "Of course, m'lady," he said.

They came across a ship headed for Oldtown, and for the right amount of gold, the captain was willing to drop them off at Dorne. Arya wrote to Sansa, telling her the journey would take two weeks, and added that there were two weddings to be planned once they arrived. The captain, Snook he was called, ordered them to be at the quay by the break of dawn in the morrow and made it very clear that the ship would sail with or without them. Arya had given him half of the payment beforehand, but kept the rest for when they arrived in Dorne. The last thing she needed was some sly sailor to rob her of everything she owned.

When they lay in bed the night before their departure, Arya reminded herself to cherish her last night on solid ground for a very long time. She had never been on a boat before, but had heard it was a nauseous and tiresome way to travel. But however tired she was, the sleep would not come, and Arya lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling while listening to Gendry's soft snoring and Merida's even breaths. Jarin sometimes sighed in his sleep as he turned in the bed, but would sleep quietly for most of the night.

Her thoughts suddenly wandered to her father in the capital, and she caught herself wishing she had waited to leave Winterfell till after his return. It felt like years since she had felt his strong arms around her. She whispered a silent prayer to the gods that they would watch over him in the city of conspiracies – every man was dangerous in King's Landing. Even those considered friends. Gendry had told her so on their way to the Wall. He had also told her that everyone was so hungry for money they were willing to do whatever just to earn themselves a few coins. Arya hoped her father did not make any enemies and that he would be smart enough not to go against the king himself. But she knew her worries were stupid; her father was a clever man – he knew best.

They brought their belonging to the harbor and were greeted by three cabin boys, hardly older than Rickon. From the look of them, they were all from across the narrow sea.

"Lady Stark!" Captain Snook called. Arya pursed her lips and hurried toward him as he approached them on a limping leg.

"Captain, I beg for your discretion – no one can know we are journeying south," she explained, slipping some golden dragons into his hand. The captain nodded slowly and winked.

"Do not worry, lass, your secret is safe with me. Let me show you to your cabins – I'm afraid we only have a couple to spare." He gestured for them to follow him. "Boys! Bring their luggage down!" the cabin boys hurried to obey.

After they had seen their cabins – hardly bigger than Gendry's chamber back in Winterfell – Arya and Merida stood on deck and watched as the ship left the quay. It was a strange feeling that filled her when the ship rocked on the waves, and it did not take long before Merida and Arya both were hanging over the railing, wrenching their stomach's dry. Judging by the look of Jarin and Gendry as they emerged from their cabins, they were not doing much better.

"How long did Snook say this journey would take?" Jarin asked, stroking Merida's back affectionately.

Arya sighed, clutching her stomach. "Two weeks."

"I need some wine," the blonde man replied with a sigh and returned to the cabin. Merida hurried quickly after him. Arya found the fresh air helping and she leaned on the railing, gazing out on the ocean. She had never seen anything like it; the sun's reflection in the blue, vivid ocean, and the smell of salt and fish.

"It's just two weeks," she told herself as her stomach started twitching again. "Fourteen days."

Gendry sniggered and placed his arms around her, kissing her neck consolingly.

They spent their days on deck, either watching the birds dance in the air or learning old songs from the crew. Arya especially liked a man called Twigg; he had a strange sense of humor, but yet made her laugh with every joke. His singing voice was deep and pure, and he sometimes let her help with his daily chores. The first few days, Merida and Jarin drank until they passed out, but as they grew accustomed to the rocking movements of the boat, they too joined Arya and Gendry on deck. Most of the time, they played cyvasse. Sometimes, Merida would impress them with her artistic skills and draw a picture almost identical to the object she had been looking at. Other times, Captain Snook would tell them stories from the sea about monsters and mermaids, but mostly Arya sat with her back against a pole and stared at the blue ocean that had finally quieted down.

On their eight day on the sea, Arya was standing on the top of the cabin with captain Snook when she caught sight of Jarin and Gendry in the front of the ship. They were in a deep conversation, and it looked like they were fighting. Arya slid down the steep staircase and tiptoed closer, careful not to be seen. She knew eavesdropping was for children, but she had always been curious, and probably always would.

"You should have told me before," Gendry said in an angry voice. "You've known all along – you should have said something."

Jarin pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes in a manner much similar to Gendry's. "Yes, I know, but I did not know how to. I've wanted to tell you since I saw you in Stannis' camp, but I couldn't find the courage to."

"I guess that explains why you saved us," Gendry sighed.

They sat in silence for a while. Arya leaned too far out from the barrel she was hiding behind and fell to the ground right in front of them.

"Arya!" Gendry jumped to his feet and helped her up. "Aren't you a bit old to eavsdrop?"

Arya felt her cheek flush and jerked out of his grip. "Only when I get caught," she said, meeting his eyes. Jarin forced a smile, but she could see that he was uncomfortable. She wished she had heard more, but knew that Gendry would eventually tell her what their conversation had been about.

"Let's go and eat," Gendry told Arya, seizing her elbow and pulling her gently along.

"As long as you tell me what all that was about," she whispered back.


	30. Chapter 30

**So here it is. The last chapter. My baby is all grown up. I hope you like it! I was actually thinking about writing a sequel, but every time I try I fail. But who knows, maybe someday I'll succeed. Thank you so much for reading and for your wonderful feedback. **

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Chapter 30

Arya

The two weeks passed faster than Arya had ever expected. After Gendry had learned about Jarin being his biological brother, the two of them were insepperable, and Arya found herself slightly jealous. But when captain Snook announced that they would approach Dorne the next day, she quickly forgot about the green monster and was unable to think about anything but her big sister and her little baby boy.

As promised, they could see land in the distance the morrow after, and the captain told them to pack and get ready to row the rest of the way. Arya paid him what she had promised, and thanked him for his hospitality. It did not take long to put her belongings back in the trunk, and with the cabin boys' help she managed to carry it on deck. Merida's trunk was much smaller and did not contain as much as Arya's, but Arya made a promise to herself she would buy her friend lots of new dresses; nothing she ever did for Merida was enough to thank her for saving their lives.

They climbed into a rowing boat along with Twigg and two other men. The cabin boys lowered their trunks into the boat with several ropes as Gendry and Jarin appeared from the cabins.

"There it is," Arya told Gendry excitedly. "We're here!"

Twigg and his men rowed in turn, but still the journey toward land was long and hot.

As the boat drew nearer the shore, Arya caught a glimpse of a crowd on the quay. She stretcher her neck trying to see Sansa, but they were too far away and the people simply blurred together. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pushing her nervousness as far away as possible. A large hand stroke her back and as she turned her head, she looked up at Gendry's reassuring smile.

"Everything's going to be okay," he whispered. She sighed and squeezed his arm.

"I know, I know." She tried to smile, but the movements of the boat made her stomach twist. After two weeks on the sea, she thought she would have been used to the nauseous feeling the waves gave her.

"Who are all those people?" Merida asked, staring at the crowd. Arya turned and could swear she saw a mane of red hair in the middle.

"My sister," she said, not taking her eyes of the red dot. It had been so long since they had last seen each other. Sansa had a son now. Espan. The thought was bizarre, but yet Arya knew Sansa was the perfect mother. She could remember how Sansa had babied Rickon when he was born, and she had always been protective of those younger of her. Arya too, despite their differences.

"Almost there," Twigg said between the strokes. Now Arya could clearly see her sister in front of the crowd, clutching a bundle in her arms while waving violently to them.

"Is that her?" Merida asked excitedly. "Oh, she's so pretty. Like a proper princess."

Arya smiled. Sansa had almost become a princess once. If only their father had accepted the offer of becoming the king's hand. But from what Joffrey did to Mycah while staying at Winterfell, Arya was glad her father declined. Sansa deserved better.

"Any minute now," Twigg teased. Arya was so excited she felt like jumping out of the boat and swim the rest of the way.

"You're shaking," Gendry stated.

"I'm fine," she told him.

As the boat reached the quay, the seconds felt like minutes. Arya jumped onto the dock as quick as she could and ran toward the crowd, not even noticing the people watching her. She could see Sansa turn to give her babe to a woman beside her, just in time to catch Arya as she jumped into her arms.

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed, hugging her close. "My sweet sister."

Arya felt her throat thicken and had to blink several times to prevent herself from crying. "I've missed you," she whispered, tightening her grip around Sansa's slender shoulders. Sansa pushed her away and examined her closely.

"Why do you look like a boy?" she asked. Arya snorted before pulling her sister back into another bone-crushing hug.

"I will tell you all about it later!"

A man walked up beside them and cleared his throat loudly. "My love, would you care to introduce us?"

Sansa smiled and put her arm around the tall man's waist. "Arya, this is Ned. Ned, my sister Arya."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord," Arya said, curtsying politely.

"And this is Espan," Sansa said, gesturing to the woman holding the babe forward. Arya stared at the bundle in amazement. He was such a little creature, with fair hair and chubby cheeks.

"Sansa, he's beautiful. Congratulations to both of you."

Lord Edric smiled proudly and stroke his wife's arm. "Now you must introduce us to your companions."

Arya gasped. In her excitement she had completely forgotten about those she was traveling with. When she turned, she saw that Twigg had already turned the boat and was headed back to the ship. Arya waved her friends forward.

"Hello Gendry," Sansa greeted. "It's nice to see you again."

"You as well, my lady," Gendry said, bowing. "Lord Dayne."

Ned took a step forward. "You must be the blacksmith. It's about time we got a new pair of hands to Starfall – our blades are getting blunt."

"And this is Merida and Jarin – they saved our lives," Arya said, smiling at them.

"I'm pleased to meet all of you," Sansa said. "But let not waste time down in the wind. We have prepared a feast in the castle in your honor. The people of Starfall are almost as excited to receive you as I am."

"Arya!" A dark voice called from behind the crowd. Arya twirled around and caught a glimpse of a man fighting his way through the group of people. His hair was longer and grayer, making him look older, but Arya saw the same kindness in his eyes that she had missed so sorely these past months.

"Father!" she leapt into the air and was caught by a pair of strong arms. "What are you doing here?"

"How could I miss my youngest daughter's wedding?" he smiled, pulling her closer.

"I've missed you so," she told him, feeling tears sting her eyes.

Her father sniggered as he put her back down on the ground. "And I've missed you, sweetheart."

They were taken to the castle in large wagons pulled by big, strong horses. Arya stared at the landscape in awe. It was so different from the north; it was warm, dry and arid. The surroundings were nothing but mountains and desert, but it was still beautiful. The castle was much bigger than Winterfell, with more towers and spears than Arya could count.

Sansa rocked her little son in her arms while smiling proudly at them. It was obvious that she loved her home more than any of them had ever anticipated, and Lord Edric was just as kind as Sansa had told her in the letters.

They were escorted up the wide staircase and through a long hall.

"The maids have prepared the south tower for you," Sansa said to Gendry and Arya. "You will have to sleep in separate rooms until your wedding, of course."

Arya nodded and gave Gendry an affectionate smile.

"Jarin and Merida," Sansa looked at the couple. "You will be staying in the east tower. Now, we will let you refresh and unpack before the feast. And in the morrow we have to start planning your wedding."

Arya chuckled by Sansa's excitement and as she and Gendry started on the stairs, she could feel the tiredness well over her. Perhaps she would have time for a quick nap before the feast.

A dark-skinned maid showed them to their rooms. As they bid farewell, Arya felt a rush of impatience toward the wedding. It was strange to be so excited about something she had been so against only months earlier. Sansa followed Arya inside the room and closed the door carefully behind them.

"What do you think?" she asked. Arya looked around the room with widened eyes.

It was a huge room, thrice as big as her chamber back at Winterfell. With a wide smile on her face, she threw herself on the soft featherbed, large enough for five grown men.

"Wow," was all she could say. Sansa laughed as she seated herself in the chair by the window facing the coast.

"This is where you'll live together after the wedding," she said. Arya sat up and gave her a confused look.

"You want us to live _here_? Permanently?"

Sansa scoffed. "Of course, what did you expect? It's perfect! That way we can spend every day together – you'll have maids and wet nurses and everything. Why aren't you smiling?"

Arya bit her lip and folded her hands in her lap. "Sansa," she started. "I thought I was clear about this; I'm grateful for your hospitality and all, but this is not the life I want for Gendry and me. We want to start over, a new start for both of us. I'm not this woman you want me to be."

Sansa sighed and crossed her arms over her stomach. "I was afraid you'd say that…"

"I'm sorry, sister."

"We can get you something in the village," Sansa said. "Ned always wanted to build a new forge. A bigger one, with a living area above." Sansa walked across the floor and sat down next to Arya on the bed.

"You'd do that for me?" Arya asked. Sansa took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"I'd do anything for you, Arya."

Arya requested that their wedding were doubled with Merida and Jarin's. Mostly because she knew their new friends were too poor to have a big wedding like Sansa was planning for her and Gendry, but also because she wanted some of the attention off of herself. It made her uncomfortable to have everyone's eyes on her, and sharing her wedding with Merida, she was not the only one they would be looking at.

It was a hot day - even hotter than usual, and Arya found herself sweating nervously as her maids put on the new dress Sansa had made her. She had considered objecting, but even she understood that getting married in breeches was not appropriate for anyone. No, she wanted to look beautiful today. For Gendry.

"Arya," Sansa breathed, staring at her. "Gods, you look like a proper lady! No, you look like a princess!"

Arya turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror glass. The sight took her breath away; she was wearing a green gown with a deep cut and a slim waist. Sansa had given her a beautiful necklace of silver with emerald green rocks, matching her dress perfectly. Since her hair only reached her neck, Sansa had ordered the maids to set it up in a knot and lay a thin hairnet on top, similar to the necklace she was wearing.

"Sansa, I-"

""Hush, little sister. Just look at yourself, you look wonderful."

Arya sighed and smiled. "I really do, don't I?"

She met Merida at the bottom of the tower stairs, and gasped by the beauty that met her. Although her dress were simpler and her necklace planer, her natural beauty made her look just as pretty as Arya, if not even prettier.

They were led to the great hall which was decorated with flowers and banners in different colors. The horde of people made Arya's stomach twist, and she could only imagine how nervous Gendry was to stand in front of all these people. she suddenly wished she had asked Sansa for something smaller, but all these requests made her feel like a burden, and she didn't want to seem ungrateful.

"You ready?" Sansa asked.

Arya nodded and took Merida's hand, giving it a little squeeze.

"Thank you for this, Arya," Merida whispered, her eyes tearing up. "For everything". Arya smiled.

The vows went by like a blur. All Arya could remember was thinking how handsome Gendry looked in his brand new breeches and tunic. Her heart beat faster as Gendry uttered the words and promised to love her forever.

As they sat down for the feast, Arya looked over at her father and could swear he was wiping a tear from his cheek. The sight made her smile. Gendry took her hand in his and kissed it gently. Despite him being from simpler conditions, he had fit in perfectly in front of the crowd, smiling brightly at her as she entered. He looked so calm and handsome; Arya finally saw the royalty in him. _He would have been a great king_, she thought, beaming at him. _But I could never be a queen_. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. The wedding and bedding, she suddenly remembered. The part she had been dreading since she attended her first wedding. The part where the men ripped off her new gown and looked at her naked body. Well, she was not going down without a fight. She wished she had brought Needle – then she could have smacked whoever tried to touch her. But Needle was safely put away in her trunk along with her dagger.

"You look pale," Gendry whispered to her as the third meal was served. Arya looked at him and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm just happy is all."

"You're dreading the traditional bedding, aren't you?"

Arya bit her lip. "Not as much the bedding as the tradition beforehand. To be honest, I can't wait to be alone with you."

He leaned nearer and gave her a light kiss on her lips, earning sighs of adornment from the guests.

"Merida looks just as nervous as you," Gendry said, stroking her lip. Arya looked at her friend and saw that she was positively shaking. Jarin tried as best as he could to calm her down, and Merida tried to put on a brave face.

The entertainment made her feel slightly better and she forgot about what came next for a few hours, but as someone yelled out to prepare for the bedding, Arya felt her blood turn cold as ice.

"I'll see you in your chamber," Gendry whispered, giving her one last kiss. Arya clutched his hand a little too tight.

"It's _our_ chamber now," she said through gritted teeth. A group of men were approaching her with wide grins on their faces. The women were pulling Gendry to them, Sansa in the front.

Arya slapped anyone who reached out for her, but was unable to smack away every wandering hand, and in the end, they managed to rip her gown off. Luckily, she managed to keep her slip somewhat whole and kept the rest of her gown wrapped around herself. As she was carried to her tower, she caught a glimpse of the men carrying Merida to hers. Jarin and Gendry were right behind them.

She felt somewhat safe when she finally saw the insides of her chamber, and rested tiredly on the bed in nothing but her ripped slip. When Gendry entered, she realized he was almost naked. Obviously, he had not been so persistent to knock the women's hands away. It was a tradition after all.

"Your hair is a mess," he said, smiling. She stared at his muscular torso, at the scars on his thigh and face. Although his scarred face had scared her at first, Arya now found him even more beautiful than ever. And he was hers. Truly hers, her husband. She laughed by the thought. _Husband_. How surreal to think of him as that.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, approaching her slowly. Arya bit her lip. For some reason, she was. Gendry put his hand around her face and kissed her passionately, making her nerves fade away. She loved him. It was nothing to be afraid of. He loved her, and she loved him. He removed her hairnet gently and let her hair fall down around her face.

"I love you," she said, kissing his neck. "I love you so much it hurts." She moved her lips to the scar on his cheek and felt him flinch by her touch.

"And now we can be together. Really together, as husband and wife."

* * *

_She ran through the snowy forest as quick as she could, limping slightly on her front left foot. She could smell the castle before she saw it. The familiar smell of bacon and horses filled her nostrils and she sped up. As she reached the large stone walls, she only needed howl before the gate opened and she was let in. She could hear people yell in surprise by the sight of her. No one was afraid, though, she could sense it. They were only happy to see her alive. She jogged across the courtyard and up the steps to the castle. The guard outside opened the door for her, and she slipped inside as gracefully as ever. She continued up the stairs and down the corridor and stopped outside the open door to her owner's chamber. It was completely empty. She could smell that no one had been there in weeks. She continued to walk and found her way to the chamber in the end where she could hear a babe cry. Although the sound was loud and annoying, she hurried inside and found the babe in a tall crib. She had to stand on her back feet to be able to look at the little babe in the crib, but as she let her snout touch the babe's cheek, the girl fell silent and merely looked at her. She managed to jump into the crib and laid down next to the babe, feeling her hands run through her fur. _

Arya sat up abruptly, her heart throbbing rapidly. It was a wolf dream, she reflected. She just had a wolf dream about Nymeria! She knew it was real; it was too vivid to be a dream of her own. That could only mean one thing: Nymeria was alive! She was alive and had found refugee with baby Atheena, the new lady of the north.

* * *

**Sooo. Thoughts? I'm a bit scared of what you think of the ending, so please be gentle. Would any of you be interested in a sequel?**


End file.
